Cut Me Loose
by SierraKathleen
Summary: When Alastair convinces Dean to make a rash decision, the outcome of the apocalypse could be completely transformed. The angels are lying, Sam is lying... it seems the only person Dean can trust is the demon himself. Set Mid-Season 4
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.

**Summary: **Dean makes a rash decision which could result in total transformation of the apocalyptic outcome. Set 4x16 – AU Mostly. SLASH

**Pairings: **Alastair/Dean

**Author's Note:** This is sort of a continuation of my On The Head Of A Pin AU, which hopefully will add onto any of the loose ends from that story. If you haven't read that, it's no biggy but you may want to. I'll have a bit of an explanation here in the beginning though. For all you angst whores (and I quote) out there though, this should be sure to please you ^_^

Just as a side not, this could quite possibly switch to M so please stay open minded.

Without anything further, please enjoy!

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**Cut Me Loose**

Both Alastair and Dean panted wildly, feverish with the remnants of their quickly fading orgasms, heaving chests rubbing against one another. Neither one spoke, seeing as words would do little in terms of justification of what was already understood – this was nothing. _Meant_ nothing. Alastair was heartless, thus incapable of loving and Dean could never love a demon. That's just how things were and how they would always stay. This here, was a onetime thing. A one night stand, if you will. Neither Dean nor Alastair would be willing or proud to speak to any other about these events and things would just continue with business as usual from here on out. Or would they?

Still as Alastair laid his head on the hunter's shoulder, and Dean in return, he couldn't help but notice something different had sprouted up inside him. Some unknown spark of electricity which had started lustfully in his member, drifted to his stomach, and now settled contently in the spot in which Dean had stabbed him earlier. Alastair swallowed hard, suddenly unable to stop blinking over his dry eyes. He was Hell's finest torturer, a vicious and ruthless demon created over centuries. He could not love, that emotion was simply an incapability for him. Where a heart should be, only black and cold space lie. Never the less, as he held Dean firmly in his arms, Alastair desired nothing more than to pull his favorite pupil closer and never let him go. Alastair could not love, but if indeed he could, he would pick a _time_ to describe it rather than a _feeling_. If he had the choice, he would pick Dean Winchester as his lover, and the time to love would be _now._

Alas, no love was to be found between these two partners, and so what was the point of dreaming? Alastair was a demon and could not love – _tristis, tamen verus. (sad but true) _And so, the almighty demon simply hung limp on this carefully conformed devil's trap with Dean only inches from his face. "Dean," he rasped, his voice coming out dry and scratchy, "What have you done?"

Dean blinked vigorously, as if being suddenly brought back to reality. His eyes widened in fear, his heart beginning to thud harshly deep within his chest as he took a very cautious step away from Alastair. He swallowed hard, unable to speak for the words had been drenched from his lips. From his _mind_. Carelessly, he allowed himself to trip on a discarded tool which lay upon the ground crashing onto the concrete below. What had he done? What line had he really just crossed here? The hunter's mouth hung open in awe as he gazed upon Alastair's battered a bloodied body, feeling suddenly contaminated by the demon's filth.

Alastair examined the expression upon Dean's face carefully, debating just how he could use this moment of weakness to his advantage. "Dean, Dean, Dean," he regained control of his voice, allowing seduction to drip thickly onto his tone, "What have you done? Hmm?" He frowned sarcastically, as if scolding the hunter non-verbally.

Dean swallowed hard, still somewhat flabbergasted about what had just passed between them. Slowly he arose to his feet, his muscles visibly trembling. "I just—," he began hesitantly, avoiding Alastair's almost judgmental stare, "Did we?" Dean questioned the events just occurred, though he knew they had indeed happened.

A devilish smirk tugged at the corners of Alastair's lips as he watched Dean shudder under his gaze. That was the one thing in which he never hoped to loose, the dominance he held over the Winchester. "Oh, we did," the demon replied smugly, almost boastfully.

At last Dean met his tormentor's gaze, feeling a cold wave flourish over him. For an instant, the hunter thought surely he would be sick, but remained standing tall if not simply for appearance's sake. "Oh no," Dean muttered, his voice barely grazing a whisper. With that, he ran a hand through his hair which was damp with sweat – he felt completely repulsed with himself. It was the same feeling which had overcome him the moment he accepted Alastair's offer down in the pits of Hell. It was as if all the work that had been done in which to rebuild himself over the course of the past few months was all pointless, ruined, a wasted effort. For now, even as he stood falsely confident before the demon, Dean felt more shattered than ever.

"Oh yes," Alastair laughed wildly, enjoying every minute of Dean's demise, "Oh yes!"

Dean could feel humiliation beginning to flare up in his cheeks, an empty pit starting to boil deep within him where his stomach should lie. "Shut up," he hissed, turning away from Alastair hastily. He suddenly couldn't even stand the sight of him, much less hear his taunts.

"Wait, Dean, just where do you think you're going? You know, this doesn't have to be a public affair," Alastair cleared his throat, quickly recovering from his short term hysteria.

Dean furrowed his brow in confusion. Turning his head to gaze slightly over his shoulder, he asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, this could be our little secret," Alastair mused, almost suggestively, "No one has to know. Besides, I won't tell them if you won't."

Dean felt an unexpected flicker of hope bubble up inside him at the demon's offer. Ignoring his previous fear, he turned and actually took a few steps towards Alastair. "You'd do that?" he questioned, getting right up in his old master's face.

Alastair smiled eagerly, the young pup was taking his bait. "One condition," he proclaimed.

Dean frowned somewhat, but was still interested in what Alastair had to say, "Okay?"

"Cut me loose," Alastair demanded.

Meanwhile, standing in the room just next door Castiel leaned upon the large table which sat towards the center of the room. His rather heated conversation with Anna had left him feeling frustrated and discontent. Still, above all else, there was really one thing specifically which was slowly grinding away on his nerves – the next room. Whatever Dean was doing in there, Castiel silently prayed was for the best. Still, for Hell's torture practices to be being committed, Alastair's screams had ceased rather quickly. Everything was just a little too silent for the angel's taste.

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Sam gripped the stirring wheel even tighter, his knuckles beginning to turn white. The fresh demon blood within his system made it feel as though his own blood was on fire as it coursed through his veins. Shaking his head somewhat, the young hunter simply concentrated on the road before him. The windshield wipers squealed rhythmically as the sloshed the rain water back and forth. Back. And. Forth.

Still, despite all the good he was sure his powers would do in stopping Alastair once and for all, there was a lingering doubt in the back of Sam's mind. What if Dean was right, what if things had already gone too far for him? Hell, he seemed to be spending more time with Ruby now than he was his own brother! _No_, Sam assured himself silently, _This has to work. This has to be right._

Yet back in the small room of the warehouse, Dean could feel all the muscles in his body tightening. He stood there in this long drawn and extremely awkward silence, eyeing Alastair suspiciously all the while. "Dean, cut me loose," Alastair repeated, his voice more firm this time.

Dean licked his lips delicately, dropping his eyes towards the ground almost in shame. "Or what?" the hunter challenged, wanting to know just what game pieces were out on the chess board.

"You know what," Alastair growled in response, "Tell me, how do you think little Sammy will react to lustful dabble that's occurred here?" Dean swallowed hard, feeling his true hatred for Alastair burn deep in the bottom of his heart. He let out an echoing sigh, still not lifting his eyes to meet Alastair's. "Dean," Alastair muttered, catching the hunter's undivided attention, "Do it. Cut. Me. Loose."

Dean looked upon Alastair's face once more, retrieving Ruby's knife from the nearby cart of tools. "Alright," he replied, his voice barely audible.

Castiel dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his vessel's trench coat, letting out a soft sigh as he lifted himself from the table's edge. His footsteps echoed loudly upon the concrete as he took many uncertain steps towards the doorway. What would he find lying beyond it? For one of the first times since his embodiment in this earthly flesh, Castiel indeed felt afraid. He halted his walk just before reaching the boundaries of the door, waiting and debating.

Meanwhile, Dean strode over to Alastair who still clung to the devil's trap. Unwrapping the demon's chains hurriedly, the hunter regretted his every movement. Then, never taking his eyes off of Alastair, he knelt almost subjectively before the demon in which to remove the chains about his ankles. At last, Dean took Ruby's knife and scraped away the symbol which kept Alastair at bay. Almost instantly, the demon placed his hands upon Dean, grasping him roughly from the shoulders before slamming him into the trap himself.

Leaning so close that Dean could feel his breath upon his cheek, Alastair muttered to his pupil, "I thank you kindly, my boy. But do not think this is the last time we shall converse." And then, almost as a departing gift Alastair leaned in abruptly, plastering a most uncomfortable kiss to the Winchester's lips. Dean almost winced as they mouths intertwined, feeling Alastair unexpectedly bit down upon his lower lips causing him to bleed. Even so, something was different as Dean trembled beneath Alastair's touch. Instead of suckling the blood away from Dean's lip, Alastair almost seemed to be inserting something into the wound.

Suddenly, the demon broke their embrace, forcefully slamming Dean into the metal before leaving him to crash down upon the floor. Stealthily, the demon creeped away into the shadows of the warehouse, sneaking out some back door most likely. Still Dean lay limp upon the floor, a strange yet sickening wave flourishing quickly over his entire body. It started as a dull thumping in his lip, but wasted no time in spreading to every nook and cranny. At first it felt burning hot, causing the hunter to break out in a rather abrupt fever, but then surely chills followed thereafter. Dean found himself curling into a ball beneath the frame of the devil's trap, clutching him arms desperately.

Finally though Castiel had enough, he needed to know what was going on behind this door. Taking a few more steps closer to the class, the angel peered in frowning at the sight before him. He saw the rack empty, the demon who'd been occupying it mysteriously absent. And then it caught his eye – Dean's body curled at its base. Without a second's hesitation, Castiel burst into the room appearing at Dean's side almost instantly. "Dean, Dean," he called, turning the hunter over in which to see his face.

There was a light sweat upon Dean's brow, his eyes glazed and unfocused as if off somewhere else. Meanwhile, the hunter's mouth hung slightly open in which a thin trail of purple tinted blood flowed. Castiel rubbed his fingers over the mysterious liquid, lifting it close to his eyes in which to examine it. Dean choked and gasped, his body convulsing somewhat. Suddenly, there came another pair of footsteps which came to a sudden halt as the person saw what was taking place before them. Castiel glanced over his shoulder to see none other than Sam Winchester rushing over to his location. Quite frankly, the angel was just perplexed on how he managed to find their location. _Help from Ruby, no doubt,_ he mused to himself.

"Dean, Dean!" Sam shouted in hysteria, clenching his brother's jacket desperately, "Cas, what's wrong with him?"

"I don't know, Alastair's gone. He must've done something to him," Castiel responded, checking over Dean's body for any other possible injuries.

"What did he do?" Sam questioned, his voice coming out rather hushed.

Castiel let out a deep sigh, just shaking his head as he overlooked the elder hunter. "I don't know," he repeated.

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**Author's Note: **So yeah, please let me know what you guys think so far. This is only the first chapter, but I plan on making the plot thicken a bit more as things go along. I'll try my best to stick to the basic storyline of the fourth season, but I'm not making any guarantees haha.

Feedback is _always_ appreciated, especially when starting a new story. Thanks for reading!


	2. Nails For Breakfast, Tacks For Snacks

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.

**Author's Note: **So I'm really hooked on this story for the now, as you can probably tell. Just in case you might be wondering, yes I did name this chapter after the song by Panic At The Disco. I'm not really a huge fan of theirs, but I do like this song specifically and I thought it went along so why not?

Anyhow, this chapter we see Sammy trying his best to help Dean, along with the angels offering a helping hand as well. Without anything further, please enjoy!

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**Nails For Breakfast, Tacks For Snacks**

With Castiel's help, Sam managed to cart Dean outside to the Impala and get him situated in the back seat. Slamming the door quickly, Sam rummaged the keys out of his pocket stopping abruptly to look upon the angel. "Come on, get in," he somewhat commanded.

"Would it not be faster if I simply teleported Dean?" Castiel asked, almost avoiding Sam's urgent eyes.

"We're driving. Now," Sam cleared his throat, grumbling under his breath as he slipped into the driver's seat and put the key into the ignition. Hardly waiting for Castiel to shut the door properly as he joined him, Sam threw the car in drive and began to speed away from the old warehouse. "Damn it," he muttered, glancing in the rear view mirror at Dean who was still in his almost paralyzed state.

"Where is it you're taking him?" Castiel inquired, looking up through the windshield in which to find where they were going.

"Bobby's," Sam replied simply, keeping his eyes focused intently on the road.

Castiel furrowed his brow somewhat, turning to look quizzically at the young hunter who sat beside him. "Are you certain he can help Dean?" he asked.

"No," Sam sighed in dismay, "But we have to try. He's our only option."

Castiel said nothing in response, sitting quietly in the passenger's seat with his hands clasped contently in his lap. Twisting around to face the back seat, Castiel's eyes overlooked Dean's body which glistened with a coating of sweat. The hunter's typically vibrant hazel eyes were dim and clouded as he stared blankly in front of him. Castiel raised an arm towards the hunter's head, before pressing both his index and middle finger against the damp skin.

"What the Hell was that for?" Sam spat suddenly, trying his best to focus on the angel and the road both at the same time.

Castiel repositioned himself forward in his seat, brushing over his trench coat lightly. "Dean will not feel the pain if he is unconscious," Cas said simply.

Sam arched an eyebrow, questioning, "How do you know?"

"Trust me," Castiel cleared his throat, still avoiding Sam's stare. There was something particular about the hunter which was beginning to unsettle his nerves. Sam snorted in response, shaking his head silently to himself as he returned his view to the road. Light speckles of rain began to spatter against the windshield, in which Sam turned a switch to begin wiping them away. For a moment nothing but the squeaking of rubber against glass was the only noise that echoed between the two. "I should go and find Uriel, he must know of Alastair's escape," Castiel said at last.

"Wait, aren't you—," Sam began, but he was cut off mid-sentence by the swift sound of ruffling feathers. The young Winchester huffed impatiently, pressing his foot down even harder on the gas pedal. There was just something he didn't like about angels, regardless whether they were servants of God or not.

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Castiel found Uriel easily enough at a playground located not too far from the warehouse in which Alastair had been held. Despite the snow which still sat contently on the ground all around them, neither angel seemed to mind the chilled temperature as a light breeze passed through the leafless branches of the trees. Castiel's footsteps made a light crunch as he took a few steps closer to the bench upon which Uriel sat.

"Castiel," Uriel murmured in surprise, glancing upward at his brother.

"Hello Uriel, I thought I might find you here," Cas replied, sighing lightly as he took a seat beside him.

Uriel folded his hands in his lap, overlooking Castiel from head to toe. "So, has the Winchester accomplished anything yet? Or are he and the demon still at their mind games?" Uriel chuckled somewhat, avoiding Castiel's sudden angered stare at his words.

"This is not a laughing matter, Uriel," Castiel scolded sternly, "Dean did not even wish to do this in the first place."

Uriel huffed almost in annoyance, "That's not his choice to make. We're out of options."

"This interrogation _was_ our last option. Now we truly have nothing left," Castiel corrected him.

Furrowing his brow in confusion, Uriel questioned, "And what is that supposed to mean exactly?"

"Alastair has escaped," Cas said simply, resting his chin upon his fist.

"Perfect, just perfect!" Uriel exclaimed aggravation, "I knew we couldn't depend on those mud monkeys for anything, absolutely nothing!"

Castiel glared at his brother who had now arisen from the bench and was pacing before him. "Uriel—,"

But Uriel cut Castiel off abruptly, "Leave it to the Winchester to let Alastair get away. Weak as they come."

"Enough!" Castiel hollered, quickly standing from his own seat to look upon Uriel at eye level, "Dean did not _let_ Alastair get away, that much you can be sure of."

"Oh really?" Uriel scoffed, "And just how can you be so sure, Castiel?"

"He's been poisoned," Castiel retorted.

Uriel's expression softened almost immediately, looking slightly taken aback. "By Alastair?" he inquired.

"I, I'm not certain," Castiel confessed in dismay, "But Sam Winchester and I assume so. He's being taken to Robert Singer's home as we speak."

Uriel snorted somewhat, not really seeing how much good another human could do in these sort of matters. Quickly though, he cleared his throat seeing as Castiel was none too happy with him right now. "Perhaps we could call for some help in this matter?" he suggested.

Castiel frowned, "Do you really think they'll send another reinforcement?"

"Desperate times do call for desperate measures," Uriel sighed, shrugging his shoulders, "I'll inform our superiors of the situation. You, in the mean time, should go and find _her._"

"I'm not so sure _she'd_ be willing to help," Castiel said doubtfully.

"Like you said, Castiel, we're out of options," Uriel declared before vanishing into the air.

Castiel allowed his head to hang low, digging his hands into the pockets of his trench coat. This poison was beyond his recognition, and he could only guess what kind of things it would do to Dean if not kill him. Uriel was right, they needed all the help they could get. The trouble was what if this necessary help wasn't entirely willing?

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Sam was able to drive about five hours, half way, before Dean began to stir and have fits in the back seat. Dawn was just beginning to break over the horizon and so Sam turned into a roadside motel, being sure to slip Dean in through a back entrance as to avoid suspicion. The elder hunter's fever had returned and Dean was burning up fast. Sam grunted as he once more attempted to lift his brother from the motel bed, half-dragging him into the small bathroom, and rather forcefully plopping him into the bathtub. Dean let out a muffled sentence of gibberish, his eyes rolling around in his head. Quickly Sam reached for the nozzle of the tub, turning the cold on high before allowing the chilled water to spill over his brother's body. Dean visibly shuddered, beginning to flap his arms and flail his legs wildly.

"Dean, Dean, shhh," Sam soothed, placing his hands reassuringly on his brother's shoulders. Dean seemed to relax almost instantly settling into his coma-like state once more. Sam turned the handle once more in which to shut off the water, before shifting away from the tub slightly. Closing the lid of the toilet, Sam sat atop it running a hand through his hair. Pulling his phone from his pocket he went to his list of contacts and selected the one that read _Ruby._ It rang once… twice… three times… four…

"Damn it Sam, what?" Ruby snapped on the other line, "You know, contrary to popular belief, I'm actually out doing things when I'm not busy feeding you."

Sam rolled his eyes at her bitchiness – typical woman. "Dean's in trouble," he cleared his throat.

"What, Alastair finally got to his head or something?" she asked, almost nonchalantly.

"I, I don't know," Sam sighed, pinching the brim of his nose, "Alastair must've poisoned him or something."

"Whoa, whoa, poisoned him? If you're calling for help, you got the wrong specialist there, Sam," Ruby exclaimed.

"Ruby please, his fever's massive. I need to get some ice to cool him down, but he can't be here by himself," Sam urged.

Ruby sighed, gritting her teeth in irritation – the last thing she wanted to do was sit alone in some crappy motel room with none other than Winchester: second in command torturer extraordinaire! "Fine," she agreed at last begrudgingly, "But don't expect me to be all gentle with him."

"Just get here," Sam almost growled before hanging up his phone.

Within a few minutes, there came a loud pounding against Sam's motel room door. Without even a second's hesitation, the young hunter opened the door which revealed a rather pissed off demon. "Where is he?" Ruby demanded, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as she shifted her weight to one side.

"In the bathroom," Sam replied simply. Purposefully, Ruby brushed against him as she entered the room making sure her unwillingness was easily known. "Hey Ruby," Sam called after her, "Thanks."

Ruby rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, now get out of here," she grumbled making her way into the cramped bathroom. She sat upon the lid of the toilet just as Sam had previously, watching over the older Winchester curiously. It was odd to find him in such a weakened state. Ruby had only seen his aggressive and somewhat violent tendencies, and so this was some kind of treat for her. To watch him struggle in the bathwater helplessly, why it actually brought a sadistic smile to her face. Allowing her ink black eyes to be exposed freely, Ruby leaned against the back of the toilet crossing her legs almost devilishly. Now all there was to do was wait.

Sam, meanwhile, drove the Impala well over the speed limit in which to get to the nearest gas station as quickly as possible. With a half-assed park job, the young hunter pulled up into one of the closest parking spaces before hopping out to grab a huge bag of ice. At the same time, Sam pulled his phone out once more dialing Bobby's number quickly.

It didn't take long before picked up, sounding groggy and disturbed on the other end of the phone. "Hello?" he stammered.

"Bobby, it's Sam," Sam sighed.

"Kid, you alright?" Bobby asked, his senses suddenly drastically awoken.

"It's Dean," he began to explain, "he's sick Bobby."

Bobby's voice deepened with concern, "Sick, like how?"

"Alastair poisoned him or something," Sam replied.

"Shit," Bobby grumbled wearily.

"Yeah, I need you to get here," Sam continued.

Bobby reached for a notepad and a pen in which to write their address, "Where ya at?"

"Martin, not too far from you. Crappy roadside motel, can't miss it," Sam said.

"Right, I'll try to get there as quick as I can," Bobby assured him.

"Thanks Bobby," Sam smiled somewhat to himself – no matter the trouble, Dean and he could always count on Bobby. It was a nice encouragement.

Bobby sighed, "You bet. Just do what you can to keep him comfortable til I get there."

With that, Sam clicked off his phone and shoved it quickly back into his pocket. He then made for the freezer at the front store and fetched a fairly large bag of ice. Hurriedly he paid for it, before stuffing it into the passenger's seat of the car. Then, twisting the key once more in the ignition, the young hunter threw the car in reverse and sped off back towards the direction of the motel.

Ruby twiddled her thumbs as Dean mumbled something gibberish. "You know I can't here you, right?" Ruby said, picking at her fingernails, "Oh, that's right, you can't hear me either." The demon chuckled sneakily to herself, arising from her seat atop the toilet to get closer to the tub. "I've been waiting a long time for a moment like this, Deano," she continued, crouching down beside where the hunter lay, "A moment to let you know just how I feel about you. See, truthfully, I can't stand you. I think you're pathetic and dickless, always trying to size me up. But then again, I always have to grin and bear for the sake of Sammy. Always for Sammy dearest. But you know what? Sam and I, we had loads of fun while you were downstairs. That's right. We were happy to enjoy ourselves without little old _you._"

If not for self control, Ruby probably would've hauled off and smacked the Winchester right where he lay. She would've brought him even more pain, made him suffer. But in truth, the one thing which brought the demon back was when Dean spoke yet again. This time it came out clearer and more forceful. "Alastair," Dean muttered, almost needily, "Alastair, oh please."

Ruby raised her eyebrows in surprise at Dean's wild moaning. Just what the Hell was buzzing around in his head, she didn't know. Arising slowly from the tile, Ruby took a cautious step backwards feeling suddenly threatened as the air had become strangely.

"Ruby," a gruff voice echoed from behind her. Ruby could feel chills run up her spine as she slowly turned to face the unexpected visitor. She then swallowed hard, preparing for what was to come.

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**Author's Note: **So, in case you couldn't tell, I'm not much of a Ruby lover. As a matter of fact I just wanted to strangle her in season four! I thought in season three that she was pretty kick ass, but once she started manipulating Sammy I just lost all taste for her.

Anywho, I'm not going to bash her though, I know there are plenty of Ruby lovers out there so more power to you. Haha, hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'll try to update soon, but I can almost guarantee you it won't be as quick as this. Until next time, peace!


	3. Dare To Sleep, Dare To Dream

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.

**Author's Note: **So from what I understand, quite a few of you are not too keen on Ruby as well. Haha, I love common interests! Anywho, in this chapter we will see a new character revealed to us as well take a little trip inside dearest Deano's head. Without anything further, please enjoy!

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**Dare To Sleep, Dare To Dream**

Ruby turned slowly to face whatever intruder had imposed upon the doorway. Her heart thrashed wildly in her chest, her muscles tense with anticipation. There, standing in his typical soldier-like manner, was Castiel. His navy eyes were focused intently upon her, his hands buried deep inside the pockets of his oh so characteristic trench coat. Ruby huffed and rolled her eyes in dismay, somehow she'd been hoping for something more. "What are you doing?" he commanded, his voice low but still authoritive.

"Was does it look like?" Ruby retorted sarcastically.

"Well, by the looks of it, you're either speaking to the currently incapacitated Winchester, or in a state of delusion where you could only then be speaking to your lonesome," another voice rang out suddenly from Castiel, "Take your pick."

Ruby gritted her teeth, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as a woman stepped forth. Just who did she think she was? The woman stood beside Castiel, mimicking the same solid posture though she looked about an inch or so shorter. Her skin was fair, her hair a rich dark, almost plum, color. Though it was her eyes which really caught Ruby's attention – they were a sparkling silver, clean with purity and free of blame, and an almost neon orange eye shadow highlighted them atop the lids. She was pretty, Ruby had to admit, but that gave the demon all the more reason to feel threatened by her.

"And you think you just have all the answers, don't you?" Ruby snorted, keeping her safe and obnoxious wall up for her protection.

The woman took a fearless step forward, eyeing Ruby with much precision. "I do not, but it would appear you do," the woman challenged, arching an eyebrow quizzically.

Ruby felt very uneasy within this woman's gaze. Dropping her own line of sight towards the ground, she dared to ask, "Who _are_ you?"

"You may address me as Taharial, angel of purification. God's servant," the woman replied sternly.

Ruby flinched at the mention of The Almighty One, edging slightly away from the now revealed angel. "Well, I think I'll get going then," Ruby cowered, brushing past Taharial and towards the doorway.

"Yes," Taharial agreed, "You should."

Ruby gave one last threatening glare towards the angel before striding past Castiel and out of the crammed bathroom. That place was small enough as was without two celestials to make things worse. Letting out a nerve-wracked sigh, Ruby allowed herself to collapse onto one of the motel room beds awaiting Sam's return.

The two angels, however, set quickly to work. Taharial crouched down beside the bathtub, inspecting any visible damage Dean may have sustained. "Do you see anything suspicious?" Castiel questioned, preferring to stand.

"Not yet," Taharial responded simply. Without even a second's hesitation, she plunged her hands into the frigid bathwater feeling over the hunter's body. She allowed her eyelids to dip shut as she moved along, looking for any spiritual tears as well physical. Reaching Dean's shoulders, Taharial felt inward edging toward his collarbone and finally reaching the neck. "Something's not right," she muttered, pulling her hands suddenly away from Dean's body.

Castiel furrowed his brow, looking at Taharial in confusion. "What do you mean?" he inquired.

"He's," Taharial hesitated for a moment, "_Filthy_."

Castiel stroked his chin thoughtfully. He asked, "How so?"

"A demonic stench, it's all over him," Taharial clarified, "Can you not feel it?" She glanced upward over her shoulder at her fellow brethren.

"I admit, I did not gain the chance to look him over properly," Castiel cleared his throat looking somewhat embarrassed.

Taharial looked as if she were about to speak again, when Dean interrupted her with a sudden murmur. He jerked his head from side to side, his body twitching somewhat. Both Castiel and Taharial exchanged puzzled glances, before continuing to watch Dean's fitful rest. The hunter shivered, more or less from his thoughts than the actual temperature of the bathwater, his eyes running rampant beneath the concealment of his eyelids. "Leave me alone," Dean suddenly called out, his voice echoing loudly against the otherwise silent bathroom, "No."

"And why not?" Alastair cooed, sitting across the room – in Dean's mind at least. The demon was hunched in his chair rather nonchalantly picking at his fingernails. Flashing his milky white eyes upward, he gave Dean a devilish grin.

Dean broke their stare almost instantly, feeling humiliation beginning to flush color to his cheeks. "I, I told you," Dean sputtered, his voice shaking with fear, "I don't want to."

"Oh," Alastair pouted in sarcasm. In the blink of an eye, he appeared only inches from Dean's face, well beyond the hunter's comfortable personal boundaries. "Because you didn't seem to mind it earlier," Alastair continued, "Didn't mind the way I _touched_ and _caressed _you." As he spoke, the demon began to rub his hand suggestively over the fabric of Dean's shirt, circling him with slow steps all the while.

Dean allowed his eyelids to fall shut, swallowing hard as Alastair continued to feel over his torso. Something about the situation should be disgusting him right about now, but for some strange reason the hunter couldn't seem to pull himself. Couldn't seem to stand his ground, or ever put up any kind of fight what so ever. "Please," Dean whispered, not daring to open his eyes, not wanting to see the sick expression he was sure was plastered upon Alastair's face.

"Please what?" Alastair asked, leaning in close to Dean's ear and being sure to pronounce every syllable clearly in which to make shivers race down Dean's spine.

Dean took a deep breath, trying his best to calm his nerves before opening his eyes once again. "Please _don't_," he almost growled, more confidence in his tone this time around.

Alastair looked slightly taken aback, gazing at the hunter in surprise, though he quickly recovered. "See, that's one of the problems with you Dean," he said, stepping away from Dean to circle him almost controllingly once more, "You're so _indecisive_. I don't like that."

"Yeah well," Dean cleared his throat, crossing his arms protectively over his chest, "Screw you very much."

Alastair paused his circling, arching a seductive eyebrow at the hunter. Dean could feel his stomach lurch and turn dysfunctionally. "Now there's no need to get nasty there, Deano," Alastair scolded, "I'm still all for the don't ask don't tell policy. Like I said before, this could be our little secret."

Dean took a moment to debate his answer silently to himself. What he and Alastair had shared – regardless of how mind blowing or sadistic it may have been – was fun. Dean felt exhilarated to be doing something wrong without any consequences. For him to be free from all the conformities and break the rules himself for a change. There was just something about being in his old master's clutches again which sickened the hunter, but excited something deep within him at the same time. He cleared his throat, daring to speak again, "I just—,"

"There's always a million reasons not to do something, Dean," Alastair interrupted him, his voice more commanding and somewhat _needier_ than before.

Dean caught Alastair's gaze, holding it for what felt like an eternity. "What do you want?" the hunter asked finally after a long drawn pause.

"What I want?" Alastair echoed, "Why, I want you Dean." He smiled sickly, taking a step closer to his pet.

Dean swallowed hard, trying his best to stand firmly without quivering. "Come on, don't feed me that crap," he retorted, "There's gotta be something you want. You wouldn't be wasting your time if there wasn't."

Alastair's grin faded somewhat as he proceeded to answer Dean's questions. "You're right, there is something. There always is. See, I had fun with you Dean. In Hell, well we were two of kind – unstoppable," the demon praised, his eyes hazing a bit as if off somewhere very far, "And then came your angel, a fluffy toy on a leash. Truth be told, I miss what we had Dean."

Dean furrowed his brow at Alastair, this type of heart-to-heart conversation really wasn't the demon's style. No, not at all. "Really? Well then, if you miss me so much, why not just drag me back downstairs? Huh, get this show on the road?" the hunter pressed, now longing for answers more than anything.

"Oh believe me, Dean, I wish it were that easy," Alastair snickered, "But I can only be sure your little push-button angels would be back to fetch you in a jiffy. After all, you're a special one you are."

"Oh yeah? How so?" Dean inquired, trying to sound more relaxed than he really felt. On the inside, his mind was racing with a thousand thoughts of what the demon could mean. A thousand thoughts of what the demon could want.

"That matters little," Alastair retorted, waving his hand about nonchalantly, "What's important right now is your say so. My offer's still good, Dean. Come on, what do you say? You still get to live, stay with your brother doing what you will, but at the end of the day _you belong to me_."

At this, Dean couldn't help but look away from his tormentor. What did that even mean, Dean belonging to Alastair? Did the demon mean him physically, or his soul? Would he still go to Hell if he somehow managed to die before his time? All these thoughts made no sense to the hunter, as he seemed to be getting lost in a whirl of panic and confusion. Then, without warning, Dean found Alastair pressed tightly against him closing the space between them. The demon's lips locked onto Dean's in some kind of sick embrace, Alastair curling his arm around Dean's back in which to plunge his tongue into the hunter's mouth. At first Dean did his best to struggle, to push Alastair away, but at last he couldn't help but melt into this twisted passion.

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The ice toppled onto Dean, jolting his nerves awake like electricity through water. The hunter gasped loudly as he brought out of his comatose like state and back to reality. Gripping the edges of the tub tightly, Dean glanced about in which to determine his surroundings. Everyone's faces were blurry and therefore it was difficult to tell who was who. Suddenly one voice rang out, slow and extremely low pitched. Dean didn't recognize it at all.

"Dean," it called out, "Dean, Dean!"

Dean shook his head vigorously, staring blindly at the unidentifiable figure before him. He squinted his eyes tightly, which caused a sharp pain to spark in his hand. Reaching a hand up in what almost felt like slow motion, he rubbed the skin desperately wishing for the pain to stop. Everything was so dim, so out of the ordinary. It was enough to make him sick. With an unexpected jolt of his head, the whole world was sent spinning. Before Dean knew it, his neck was twisting round and round before finally collapsing onto the porcelain behind.

"Dean," he could hear the voice murmuring again, "Dean, come on, please wake up."

At last the hunter's eyelids fluttered open, his vision still blurred momentarily before coming back into focus. "Sammy?" he asked, seeing his brother's concerned face staring down at him from atop. He obviously was no longer in the bathtub but rather on a motel bed – a very soft motel bed at that. Dean's head hurt much less from the time before, and the world to seem much more sharpened and realistic.

"Hey," Sam said in a low voice, leaning in towards his brother in which to place a hand on Dean's shoulder, "How you feeling?"

"Freaking fantastic," Dean grumbled in response, attempting to sit up somewhat from the bed sheets. There came a riveting pain throughout his whole body, surging into the very core of him it would seem.

"Whoa, whoa, easy. You're not better just yet," Sam soothed, encouraging Dean to stay in his horizontal position.

Dean let out an exasperated sigh, settling back against the pillows wearily. "Thanks for the warning there, genius," the elder hunter muttered, allowing his eyes to dip shut. Visions of Alastair unexpectedly flooded his vision, and so Dean preferred to keep his open for the time being just to blankly stare at the ceiling.

"Hello Dean," a lighthearted voice echoed suddenly from beside the bed.

Dean glanced up at the very attractive angel whom stood beside his bed, a dopey smile spreading over his lips. "Well," he cleared his throat, "I think I'm feeling better already."

Both he and Sam chuckled somewhat, exchanging silly glances at Dean's remark. At the look of confusion upon Taharial's face, however, they quickly straightened up. "Dean, this is Taharial," Castiel introduced, stepping forth.

"She's not another specialist, is she?" Dean grumbled – he was getting pretty tired of this whole angel business to be quite honest.

"No, not like Uriel," Castiel clarified.

Dean shifted himself somewhat upright, clasping his hands contently in his lap. "Good, cause I've had about enough of those," he continued. At this, Sam elbowed Dean lightly throwing him a stern glance. Dean cleared his throat ignoring his brother's pushiness.

"You've been poisoned, Dean," Taharial began to explain directly, "Alastair has infected you."

Dean felt slight color beginning to flush to his cheeks simply at the mention of the demon's name. He started blankly at his hands, which were still folded neatly in his lap. He felt terribly guilty, almost embarrassed, in front of everyone in the room.

"Dean?" Sam asked suddenly, pulling his brother back to the surface of reality.

"I heard," Dean replied, tilting his head back upward at last, "Can you help me?"

Dean stared up at Taharial with so much need, so much brokenness and anguish in his eyes, that the angel had to look away in fear of the emotion which was threatening to overtake her. "Yes," she replied her voice barely grazing a whisper, "I shall do my best to heal you."

That being said, Taharial approached the bedside in which she sat beside the eldest Winchester. Leaning in close to him, she closed his eyelids lightly with her fingertips in order to prepare him for what was to come. Dean's senses began to tingle blissfully as Taharial placed her hands upon his face. She then grasped his jaw lightly, tugging it downward in which to open his mouth. Dean did so without resistance, making no complaints when Taharial proceeded to come even closer until they were mere inches from each other. Using the most delicate of touches, the angel pulled on Dean's lower lip revealing the place in which Alastair had infected him. Sam shivered somewhat at the sight of it, perplexed at just how Alastair managed to bite Dean there – _inside_ his mouth.

Opening her own mouth, Taharial looked as though she were about to kiss the Winchester. A low, almost growling, sound began to rumble in the angel's throat. Just as quickly as it had begun, however, the noise suddenly transformed into a sweet celestial melody. Sam gaped in awe as he saw a golden string of light transferring out of Taharial's mouth and into Dean's. At the same time, a black and deep plumb tinted strand began to pour from Dean's lips. This bizarre connection between hunter and angel lasted for only a moment longer, before Taharial jerked away suddenly. Almost immediately she had her own hands wrapped around her throat, choking and sputtering uncontrollably.

"Taharial," Castiel gasped out, inching towards her in concern.

"No!" she managed to choke, holding her hand up towards Castiel in protest, "I, I almost have it." She coughed and hacked for a few seconds further before finally spitting out the dark substance. Everyone watched as the goop began to bubble and sizzle almost like acid atop the carpeting.

"That was in me?" Dean questioned, staring at the black pool in amazement.

"Yes," Taharial coughed, "There's no telling what it may done, had it stayed in you longer."

All those in the room remained silent there afterwards, occasional awkward glances being tossed across to each other. Finally, Sam spoke out. "Dean, how did Alastair bite your lip?" he asked, unable to keep his curiosity contained any longer.

Dean's face fell, all the color draining quickly from it as he turned a sickly pale shade. He swallowed hard, his heart pounding wildly against his rib cage. "I don't want to talk about it," the hunter whispered, purposefully avoiding all eye contact – especially Sam's.

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**Author's Note:** So yeah, I like to make it where Dean does feel guilty about lying to everyone cause I honestly think he wouldn't feel just all fine and dandy when it comes to keeping things from Sammy. Anyhow, hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and I'll be sure to update soon.

Thanks for reading! ^_^


	4. Misery Loves Company

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.

**Author's Note: **Okay… so I'm totally having some kind of unfocused moment right now and I really don't have anything special to write in here for you. Anyhow, in this chapter you're going to see a little more Alastair invasion and I'm gonna try to twist the plot back towards a semi-original story concept.

Hope you enjoy!

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**Misery Loves Company**

Dean was unusually silent as he and Sam began to pack up their things from the motel room. Once Sam had arrived back with the ice, he told Ruby to lie low for the time being until this all could be sorted out with the angels. She obviously had no qualms with the suggestion, especially after feeling so terribly intimidated by Taharial. And so, it all boiled down to two hunters versus two angels for the now – an extremely awkward silence hovering in the air above them.

"So, uh, where do we go from here?" Sam asked awkwardly, clearing his throat as he broke the stillness.

Taharial glanced at him from across the room, her expression blank and serene. She looked very peaceful. "Castiel and I are waiting to receive revelation," she replied.

"From what I understand," Castiel added, "Uriel should be arriving soon to give us further instructions on how to handle Dean's – _situation_."

Dean grumbled, stuffing the remainder of his clothing into his bag, "Oh great. Well I hate to rain on your parade there, but if junkless is gonna come around any time soon I'd like to get this show on the road."

"Dean," Sam hissed, throwing Dean a scolding glare.

Dean ignored him, promptly turning back to face Castiel just to see what eager response he had hidden just behind his teeth. "Dean, Uriel may have some useful information on Alastair's whereabouts. You must be patient," the angel insisted, taking a step closer to the elder of the two hunters.

"Yeah, well while we're sitting around here being patient, I gotta take a leak," Dean announced sarcastically, making his way towards the bathroom which was nestled in the corner.

"Dean, wait," Sam grabbed him by the arm, jerking him back, "What the heck is your problem?"

Dean cleared his throat, shrugging Sam off as he lied through his teeth, "Dude, nothing's my problem. What, is it illegal for a man to take a whizz or something now?" On that note, he jerked roughly out of Sam's grasp and continued his way to the confinements of white tile.

Sam shook his head, watching as Dean closed the door firmly behind him. Directing his gaze back towards the angels, he noticed them both staring at him intently. "He really is grateful," Sam urged, feeling slightly embarrassed all of a sudden.

"He has a remarkable way of showing it," Castiel grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as he took a seat on the corner of one of the motel beds.

Taharial threw Castiel a glance, which made his expression soften a bit. "It's a defense mechanism," Taharial said simply.

Sam furrowed his brow, pausing to look quizzically upon the angel. He asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well, I've been around to witness humanity a bit longer than Castiel here," she explained, taking a step forward, "And from my understanding, when something is really grinding away at someone they'll try to disguise it with anger. Acting tough and bitter is just their way of ignoring the problem and hoping it goes away."

Sam nodded thoughtfully, it made sense. He was beginning to like Taharial, she had great wisdom but wasn't ignorant about it. She was just generally – _nice_. "And what do you think is bothering Dean?" he questioned, feeling that she may just have the answer he seeked.

Taharial sighed, "It is not my place to presume."

"Please," Sam urged, "I just want your opinion."

"Well, this is just my own thoughts, but I'd say something awful went down between he and Alastair. Something worse than just the torture, something damaging. Scaring even," she mused. Sam let out a deep sigh of frustration at this. What if something really had happened that left Dean torn? Well, torn even more so. It would just be so much easier if Dean would actually open up and talk about things. But, of course, he wasn't going to.

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Dean finished relieving himself, pulling up his fly promptly before flushing the toilet. He let out a long drawn sigh, feeling weary though he had just slept for several hours beforehand. "Why, hello Dean," Alastair's voice suddenly echoed from behind him.

Dean jolted at the demon's unexpected presence, nearly pissing himself despite just doing so. "Jesus," he gasped, turning swiftly to face his old master.

"Not quite," Alastair grumbled, shifting uncomfortably at the mention of His holy name.

Dean licked his lips delicately, already feeling a light sweat beginning to gather upon his brow. "Why the Hell are you even here?" he spat, lowering his voice as he leaned a bit closer to the demon, "There are two freaking angels standing right outside the door."

Alastair rolled his eyes huffing impatiently, "Soon to be three."

"What?" he asked, slightly confused.

"You honestly think I didn't realize?" Alastair muttered, arching an eyebrow, "Uriel should be arriving any second now."

"So I guess I'll repeat for the deaf, why the Hell have you come?" Dean almost growled, side stepping away from Alastair as the demon approached the door.

Sliding his fingers over the door handle, Alastair twisted the lock to prevent anyone from entering – or leaving. Dean swallowed hard, feeling his heart beginning to thump hard in his chest. "I've come to check up on my little proposition," he stated, looking Dean dead in the eye.

Dean took yet another cautious step backward, wanting there to be as much space between he and Alastair as possible despite the cramped surroundings. He sputtered, trying to stall Alastair in whatever he was about to do, "I uh, well, I didn't—,"

"Don't bother lying Dean, it won't do you much good," Alastair murmured, stepping forward, "Especially from _me_."

Dean shivered as Alastair dominated over his personal space once more, leaning in so close that their lips were almost touching. "I, I don't know. I have to think," Dean responded breathlessly.

Alastair slid his cheek across Dean's, leaning in to his ear in which to whisper, "What is there to think about?"

The hunter could feel a burning sensation emulate over his skin wherever the demon touched as Alastair began to slide his hand down Dean's body in which to caress his inner thigh. Dean cried out softly as Alastair pinched his earlobe between his teeth, tugging with painful pleasure. An overwhelming wave of guilt, fear, and arousal spread over him uncontrollably – so much, in fact, it made the hunter feel sick to his stomach. "No," he mumbled, his words becoming quickly lost in the sound of his racing heart. Alastair ignored Dean's protest, gripping the hunter roughly by the shoulders and pinning him to the wall. Dean gasped out once again, feeling rage beginning to bubble beneath the surface. "Alastair," he called out, his voice more commanding and in control this time, "I said no."

Alastair took a step back, gazing at the hunter suspiciously. Clearing his throat, he promptly stepped out of Dean's personal zone, fixing his collar which suddenly felt very tight. "We must meet," he spoke clearly, calmly, as if nothing had happened, "Tonight."

"What? Why?" Dean sighed. This simply wasn't going to happen.

"Listen to me, and listen well Dean," Alastair muttered, leaning in close to the hunter once again, "These pricks are going to send you and Sammy on a little trip over to Ohio. Do what they ask."

"And what is that exactly?" Dean replied sarcastically, licking his lips.

"Just do it," Alastair commanded. And with that, the demon disappeared before Dean's very eyes. The hunter was really getting tired of all this _act now, ask questions later _attitude – that and the whole magic disappearing thing didn't help either.

Glancing in the mirror, Dean noticed that his cheeks were slightly flushed. Turning on the sink, he quickly splashed some cold water onto his face dabbing it dry on a nearby towel. Opening the door, Dean stepped out only to see Uriel standing right outside. "Whoa, step it back there chuckles," he grumbled, side stepping away from Uriel.

"Winchester two," Uriel nodded simply, eyeing Dean with an almost vicious stare.

"Jeeze, good to see you too," Dean muttered under his breath, standing promptly beside Sam.

"Dude, what took you so long?" Sam whispered, leaning in towards Dean's ear.

Dean glanced at him in confusion. He asked, "What a'ya mean?"

"You were in there for like ever," Sam replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Suddenly Castiel spoke up, which Dean was thankful for seeing as he really had no response to give Sammy. Not a believable one at least. The angel had his hands clasped behind his back in a soldier-like stance, speaking clearly and directly in stating their next mission, "There have been some mysterious deaths at a company in Ohio—,"

"Shit," Dean spat out suddenly, remembering what Alastair had said about the angels sending he and Sam to Ohio.

"Is there a problem?" Uriel arched an eyebrow.

"Uh, no," Dean mumbled, glancing awkwardly towards the floor.

"Wait a second," Sam cleared his throat, "Alastair's missing, and you want us to look into some weird deaths? No offense, but shouldn't we still be looking for the guy who's killing your soldiers here?"

Castiel sighed, "Sam, we're doing everything we can for right now. There's really not much you can do to help."

"But what about Alastair?" Dean asked, his voice sounding a bit more needy than he would've liked.

"Let us worry about Alastair," Uriel grumbled, "One of our superiors will be in Ohio."

Dean exchanged a quick glance with Sam, returning his gaze to the angels. "Your superior?" he questioned.

"Zachariah," Castiel clarified, "He's been meaning to have a word with you. About the seals."

"Right, you mean about that blow-tastic job we've done about protecting them," Dean scoffed.

Sam glared at Dean in dismay, "Dean—,"

"This last seal was a victory," Castiel said, taking a step closer to the hunters, "We are trying our hardest to prevent Lucifer's rising, but we need to make sure you are giving all you can as well."

Uriel took a threatening step forward as well, holding his hand up. "And if not, we can _ensure_ that you do," he warned, eyeing Dean especially hatefully.

Dean shook his head, gritting his teeth, "You know what? I've had about—,"

"Will everyone please be quiet?" Taharial hollered out suddenly. Everyone turned to face her suddenly, watching as the angel massaged her temples.

"What is it?" Castiel asked, breaking away from their small group in which to stand closer to Taharial.

Taharial let out a long drawn sigh, keeping her eyes closed tightly. "Can't you feel it?"

"I don't sense—," Castiel began, stopping suddenly as he approached near the bathroom door.

"Castiel?" Uriel questioned, following his brothers steps. "I feel it too."

Sam looked at Dean quizzically, staying put as he inquired, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"The bathroom, it's contaminated," Taharial stated, moving away from the door as Uriel opened it.

"You didn't let that demon whore in here, did you?" Uriel muttered under his breath.

Sam looked as though he were about to speak, when Dean interrupted him sharply, "Hate to burst your bubble there, but hotel bathrooms aren't exactly _clean_."

"That's not it," Taharial tried to explain, her eyes widening as she stood near Dean, "It's you too."

Sam jerked away from Dean suddenly, looking both shocked and disgusted all at the same time. Dean felt embarrassed yet infuriated under his brother's judgmental stare. Castiel and Uriel soon joined the others, crowding around Dean in suspicion. Leaning her hand in towards his forearm, Taharial hesitated before finally resting her palm upon his flesh. She squinted in pain before removing her hand. "For crying out loud, what?" Dean spat, feeling annoyance begin to bubble up inside him.

"Alastair's scent lingers on you," Taharial replied, looking him dead in the eye.

Dean could feel his heart racing once more in his chest, everyone's watchful eyes carefully planted on him. Licking his lips, which had suddenly become very dry, Dean tried to sound as casual as possible, "His scent?"

"Traces of a demon can be detected by angels. Much like sulfur to you, we sense their energy or scent per say," Castiel tried to explain.

"So what does that mean for Dean?" Sam asked eagerly.

Taharial mused, "It could just be that Alastair's presence is long lasting, possibly an effect from the poison—,"

"Or that your brother has had recent contact with the demon," Uriel accused darkly.

"Impossible," Castiel retorted simply.

"Dean was here the whole time," Sam scoffed, "It's not like Alastair could just slip in under our noses."

"Sam's right, it doesn't make sense Uriel," Taharial agreed.

Uriel folded his arms tightly over his chest, glaring at Dean viciously. The hunter cleared his throat, trying his best to avoid Uriel's gaze, "So where do we go from here?"

Castiel lifted a hand in which to rub over his forehead, sighing wearily. "We go to Ohio," he declared simply, "If Alastair is indeed that powerful to linger on you for so long, than perhaps it will do us some good in determining his location."

No one spoke for a moment, some kind of thick tension forming between hunters and forces of the heavenly host. At last Taharial spoke out, her voice a bit more dim than usual. "I must rejuvenate," she said.

Sam furrowed his brow, asking, "How does that work exactly?"

"I may be a superior to both Castiel and Uriel," Taharial answered, "but I've not spent nearly as much time among the humans as they have. Being confined to this body, these limitations, wear me thin. And for that, I must rest and rehabilitate my powers."

"Oh," was all Sam could say. Quite frankly he was surprised at just how complex this whole angel to vessel thing could really be. Why was it with demons that they could just pop right in? No consent, no adjustments, nothing.

Dean pinched the brim of his nose, sighing a little bit louder than truly necessary. "Guess we should hit the road then?" he asked, but it really wasn't a question.

"We shall meet you there," Castiel said, exchanging one last look with the hunters, "Please Dean, don't delay." And with that, all three were gone in a whoosh of feathers. The air was so serene, so calm, it was like they had never existed there at all.

"Okay, spill it," Sam said almost immediately, looking at Dean intensely.

Dean arched an eyebrow at him, "Come again?"

"Cut the crap, Dean," Sam urged, "What's going on?"

"I dunno, you tell me," Dean challenged, crossing his arms over his chest.

Sam snorted almost in disbelief as he placed his hands on his hips. "Come on, Dean, something's off here. What happened in the warehouse?" the younger hunter pleaded, hoping Dean would give him something, _anything_, in which to work with here.

Dean grumbled, "Sam—,"

"No Dean, something happened. Something between you and Alastair. What was it? You can tell me," Sam insisted, taking a step closer.

Dean side stepped away from his brother, trying to bolt for the door as freaking fast as possible. "Nothing," he lied through his teeth, not wanting to look Sam in the eye.

Sam quickly appeared before him, blocking the doorway. He obviously wasn't going to quite until he got an answer that satisfied him – for the time being, at least. "Dean, please," he continued.

"Nothing, okay Sam? Nothing!" Dean hollered, lifting his fist in which to plant forcefully into Sam's cheek. He had to admit, he felt better after doing so.

Sam stared at him in shock for an instant, quickly brushing it off. Dean had done much worse to him. "Something had to have happened," Sam said, his tone lower this time, "Otherwise you wouldn't be the wreck you are now."

"What are you talking about?" Dean heaved.

"Dean, it's more obvious than you think – I see the way you twitch, almost shake, just standing here. I've seen how panicked you get under the angels' stare. Hell, the way you breathe is even reckless!" Sam declared, placing a hand firmly upon Dean's shoulder.

"Sam, I just _tortured _Alastair," Dean said dryly, "It wasn't rainbows and ponies, it was scissors and knives and blood. Just how did you think I was gonna be?"

Sam's expression softened almost instantly – Dean made a good point. Sam wasn't exactly sure what he'd been expecting but it certainly hadn't been this. Just the words Dean used put a terrifying image into the young hunter's head. He could see Dean cutting flesh apart with scissors, tearing people apart bit by bit. It made him simply itch inside simply at the thought of Dean being so brutal. So _soulless._

Sam directed his gaze towards the ground, fidgeting with his fingernails awkwardly. He murmured, "Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't think—,"

"No, you didn't," Dean interrupted him. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Dean made quickly for the door. This time Sam didn't even bother to stop him.

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Both hunters were restless as the trip seemed to just drag on and on. They'd driven about seven and half hours with an extreme tension building between them, before coming to a rest stop in Omaha. Dean was apparently giving Sam the _silent treatment_, seeing as he went straight to bed without a single word of when to get up next. That had been all to obvious to Sam when he woke up to a mysteriously blaring radio – Dean's work, no doubt. Still, they were back on the road in a short time, passing through Joliet as sort of a halfway marker.

Sam sighed softly, eyeing Dean with suspicion when he though he wasn't looking. "What?" Dean asked sternly, never taking his eyes off the road.

"Nothing," Sam replied, his voice dim and almost cowardly.

Dean turned his head, looking as though he were about to speak, when Sam's cell phone rang out noisily. Sam glanced at the caller I.D. which read _Bobby_ with crystal clarity. Sam swallowed – he knew what this phone call would be about already. He let out one more sigh, flipping open the lid. "You stupid ass!" Bobby hollered into the receiver.

Sam jolted somewhat; he'd been expecting a verbal ass-whopping, he just hadn't expected Bobby to be so loud about it. "It's good to hear you too, Bobby," Sam replied dully, exchanging a quick glance with Dean. The young hunter shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Don't give me that," Bobby snapped, "First you tell me it's a matter'a life 'n death, then you up and leave?"

Sam rolled his eyes, muttering, "Bobby—,"

"Is Dean alright?" the elder hunter interrupted him swiftly.

"Let me talk to him," Dean said, reaching a hand out to accept the phone.

Sam ignored him, swapping the phone to his other hand and leaning in close to hear. "Bobby, we—,"

"Damn it kid, is he alright?" Bobby shouted eagerly.

With one impossible swift move, Dean somehow managed to snake his hand around the back of Sam's head and pulled the phone from his brother's hand. Sam grumbled lightly in protest, folding his arms tightly over his chest. Dean leaned the phone on his shoulder, meanwhile, placing both hands back on the steering wheel. "Bobby," he said simply.

"Ah, thank God," Bobby muttered, letting out a deep sigh.

Dean furrowed his brow in confusion. He asked, "What's going on?"

"Your brother had me race all the way to Cheyenne, that's what," Bobby grumbled miserably, "What the Hell happened to you?"

Dean shot a glance at Sam, in which the younger hunter quickly turned to look out the window. "It's a long story," Dean replied dryly.

Bobby said, "Well, you better get explainin' then."

"Look Bobby, now's not the best time," Dean stalled, "Cas wants us to head to Ohio. Something about meeting superiors."

"And what about this demon? This Alastair guy?" Bobby continued, his voice low as if speaking a well kept secret.

Dean shivered at how blandly the demon's name just seemed to roll off Bobby's tongue. For a moment, Dean just felt compelled to spill everything out onto Bobby. To let him know about their strange affair and how Alastair poisoned him with a biting kiss and just everything. But Dean bit back. "I don't," he began hesitantly, his voice rather creaky as he spoke, "I don't know."

Bobby remained silent for a moment, debating his response to himself. "Well, I'm just glad you're okay," he murmured at last.

"Yeah," Dean agreed awkwardly.

"Guess I'll let you two knuckle heads get back to yer angel business. You need anything, you just call," he continued, trying hard to avoid any real tender chick flick moments with Dean.

Dean smiled, "Alright, thanks Bobby."

"Yep, and Dean?" Bobby said.

"Yeah?"

"Just be careful out there."

Dean sighed wearily, shutting the phone before tossing it into Sam's lap. "I can't believe you went and told him," the older Winchester grumbled, making a sharp turn.

"What?" Sam spat, looking at Dean in disbelief, "Dean, I thought he could help."

"You had him scared shitless!" Dean retorted, glaring at Sam vigorously.

Sam snorted somewhat, "Uh, I didn't know what else to do. I mean you were freaking _poisoned_ Dean, in case you haven't forgot."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean challenged.

Sam sighed, "Nothing. Forget it."

"Sam what?" Dean urged, feeling great amounts of irritation flaming over his cheeks.

"I dunno," Sam confessed, "You're just not yourself lately. And it's not just the torture thing either."

Dean rolled his eyes. _Here we go,_ he thought wearily to himself. "Sam—,"

"I'm being serious," Sam interrupted him swiftly, "I'm not the only one whose noticed. I'm sure Cas and Uriel have been able to tell too."

Dean gritted his teeth, keeping his mouth shut. It's not like he had anything really to say anyhow. Eyeing an exit sign just above them, Dean made yet another sudden turn past oncoming traffic and down the exit ramp. A few people honked their horns, one even stuck the middle finger out the window to him. Dean could honestly careless, he was tired. "I'm gonna pull in here for the night," he grumbled, nodding towards a small motel.

"Castiel said we shouldn't waste time," Sam retorted.

Dean kept his eyes intently focused on the steering wheel, even as he turned off the car and took the keys from the ignition. "Yeah, well you know?" he muttered, "Cas can go screw himself. If they really want us there so badly well then they can just come and get us." With that, he popped open the driver's door making immediately for his belongings.

Sam remained silent as they checked into their room and began to unpack their things. His stomach grumbled low in his stomach, making him feel rather empty as he realized he hadn't eaten in quite some time now. "I think I'll go grab a pizza," he declared simply, turning to Dean for the keys.

Dean chucked them over to Sam with a jingle, returning to his bag in which to pull out a liquor bottle. "Don't worry, got enough liquor to prob'ly drown town anyhow," he said, unscrewing the cap. Sam watched in dismay as his brother took a _long_ drink. He wished just for once Dean wouldn't have to cling to a bottle.

Making for the parking lot, the younger hunter whipped out his cell phone quickly dialing Ruby's number. "Ruby," he said simply as the demon picked up the phone.

"How goes the search for the holy grail?" Ruby teased with her typical sarcasm.

"Frustrating," Sam replied simply.

"You need it, don't you?" she asked, seduction curling around each word.

"Yeah," Sam admitted wearily as he hopped into the Impala.

Ruby smiled to herself, remaining hushed for a moment longer. She could hear the neediness just in Sam's breath as she listened to him intently. "You'd think after all I gave you for Alastair you'd have had enough," she mused.

Sam swallowed hard. "Ruby please," he almost begged.

"Fine, fine, it's not biggie to me. I'm just saying," Ruby replied hastily, "Where should I meet you?"

"You know the local pizza joint in town?" he asked.

Ruby yawned, "Yeah?"

"There's a motel right across the way," Sam said simply. With that he hung up the phone, not even bothering to wait for a goodbye.

Dean, meanwhile, lay on his motel bed with bottle in hand and his eyes closed lightly. He let out a light sigh as his senses were beginning to drift away and sleep was threatening to overtake him. Drunk sleep was truly his favorite. He really didn't dream or have nightmares or anything for that matter. He just slept, which was always a relief. Dean was quickly brought back to reality though as he heard the door shut lightly, footsteps shifting on the carpet.

"What ya forget?" he muttered, assuming sasquatch had left something behind.

"Nothing," Alastair's nasal voice suddenly rang out, "But it looks like _you_ forgot to lock the door there Dean." Dean swallowed hard, now wishing Sam hadn't gone out after all.

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**Author's Note:** I'm having way too much fun twisting the plot to my personal desires. In case you're wondering, I am trying to keep to the basis of the storyline and not stray too much. Anyhow, really hope you enjoyed.

Thanks for reading! I'll be sure to update soon ^_^


	5. Ignorance Is Bliss

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.

**Author's Note: **Wow! It has been WAY too long since I updated this. I am terribly sorry, that's just awful of me to have forgotten it like this =3

Anyhow, just as a fair for warning, there's going to be a love scene right off the bat here in the beginning to be aware. Also, we're going to see some of the events leading up to the plot of 4x17 (It's A Terrible Life).

Without anything further, please enjoy!

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**Ignorance Is Bliss**

Dean's eyes opened almost as soon as the demon spoke, his heart thumping uncontrollably in his chest. Sitting up quickly, the hunter soon found that was a mistake in itself – his head whirled and ached due to the amount of alcohol he'd just consumed in such a short period of time. Blinking vigorously, Dean found his vision rather blurry, Alastair's figure mostly easy to make out but still a bit hazy. "What the Hell are you doing here?" Dean snapped, the words rolling off his tongue lazily as though his mouth had been numbed.

Alastair grinned at how unstable his toy was, taking a leisurely step forth towards the bed upon which Dean sat. "Oh Dean," he sighed, "Dean, Dean, Dean."

Dean frowned somewhat, creeping towards the other edge of the bed as he saw Alastair coming closer. "Yeah, that's ny mame. Wait, no, that's my, ny— you know what I mean!" he stumbled on his words. It was right about now when the hunter was regretting his drinking the most – or regretting being drunk more or less.

Alastair paused in his slow walk, lifting a hand in which to stroke his chin thoughtfully. "Tell me my boy, do you ever tire of running circles?" he asked simply.

"What?" Dean spewed immediately, "I'm not running, I'm sitting right here! Can't you freaking see that, you freaking, freaker, freak—,"

"_Think_ Dean," Alastair commanded, interrupting the hunter swiftly, "Every time I appear to you, we always have the same conversation. Exchange the same words. Do I really take you off guard that easily?"

"Well," Dean thought aloud, "Looks like it there, Sherlock."

Alastair tilted his head to the side, a movement that very much resembled Castiel at this point. "Come now, Dean, I know you better than that," he cooed.

"Oh really?" Dean snorted, feeling a slight case of the giggles coming on. He cleared his throat, his inner common sense wanting so badly to keep them down.

"But of course, Dean," the demon continued, resuming his saunter forward once more, "I've seen the way you think, _operate_, downstairs. The way you crack under pressure. And, thanks to our little session back in Cheyenne, I've seen just how you crack in other situations too."

Dean hiccupped suddenly, feeling nauseous as though he would throw up on Alastair seeing as he was only a mere foot or so away from him by now. Images of him pleasuring the demon, and vice versa, flashed before him feeling his stomach lurch in both anticipation and disgust all at the same time. Glancing upward only to see Alastair's face so close to his, Dean grumbled, "I'mma bout ready to crack you."

Alastair chuckled his malevolent laugh, watching as Dean's pupils trembled constantly. Grasping the hunter forcefully by the chin, Alastair jerked Dean's head in which to make him stare directly into his eyes. "Look at me, Dean," he commanded, "What do you see?"

Dean simply gazed at Alastair for an excruciatingly silent moment, but instead of feeling utter terror he felt humorous – rather humorous indeed. Snorting somewhat from trying to contain his drunken giddiness, Dean mumbled, "I see your face, Alastair. And let me tell ya, it's pretty fugly dude."

Alastair's expression fell almost instantly, that certainly had not been the answer he was expecting. Grasping Dean roughly by the collar of his shirt, the demon tossed Dean down upon the mattress of the bed throwing a punch to the hunter's jaw just for the sheer enjoyment in seeing him bleed. Watching the thin trail of crimson run over the skin on Dean's lower lip, well, that was pure temptation to Alastair. Climbing atop the bed himself Alastair did his best to straddle a fairly resisting Dean, clutching the hunter's hands together in which to keep them restrained. The demon could obviously see that the alcohol was quickly wearing off of Dean as he continued to lash out and fight back against the demon.

"What are you doing?" Dean gasped breathlessly, his vision shaking violently threatening to make the poor hunter throw up right then and there.

"How should I say, having a taste," Alastair remarked smugly, lowering his head in which to place a sickening kiss to Dean's lips. The hunter wriggled helplessly beneath the weight of his former master, feeling like poison had just coated his mouth but, unexpectedly, he actually began to loosen up and melt into this kiss of theirs. Alastair broke away abruptly, instead attaching his mouth to Dean's lower lip in which to taste the hunter's irony blood. A bizarre, almost purring, sound rumbled in the demon's throat as he continued to suckle and Dean couldn't help but gasp out at the building pressure deep within him.

Alastair now removed his hands from Dean's, allowing them to roam about where they would all over the hunter's body. Dean threw his head back as he felt the demon suggestively rub over his inner thigh, causing the bulge in his pants to stiffen further. "Alastair," he swallowed hard, his throat feeling extremely dry.

The demon pulled away from Dean's lower lip, his eyes locking on to the hunter's in one chilling stare. Sliding up Dean's body, Alastair rejoined their lips once more slipping his tongue forcefully inside the hunter's mouth. Dean breathed vigorously through his nostrils, heaving for breath as his heart continued to slam in the confinements of his chest. Alastair ran his fingers oh so lightly over Dean's arms, grabbing the hunter firmly by the wrists and lifting them above his head. From there, he kept a tight hold on them as he began to direct his head down towards Dean's neck and collarbone. Dean shut his eyes tightly, his brow furrowing in the utmost pain as he felt such an incredible longing at just how domineering Alastair could be. The demon bit lightly against the tender skin of the Winchester's neck, an action which was certain to leave little red marks in the morning.

Still, removing one hand from Dean's wrists, Alastair worked to pull Dean's shirt of his head and tossed is carelessly to the floor below. Lifting his other hand away from the hunter at last, the demon rubbed his palms over Dean's smooth chest greedily lowering his head in which to lick warm flesh. Dean cried out once more, this time wrapping his arms around Alastair's back in which to pull the demon closer as if to never let him go.

It wasn't long before both hunter and demon had been stripped of most, if not all, their clothing articles Dean's flesh feeling as though it would melt off from Alastair's purely volcanic touch. The two held a rather threatening gaze as Alastair peered down at his favorite puppet above whom he towered so high. Dean swallowed hard, feeling a deep pressure building within him in which he was certain he wouldn't be able to hold off for much longer. His lips quivered slightly as he dared to speak in a hushed voice, "Alastair please I need, I need—,"

"What Dean? What twisted thoughts do you have swirling around in that noggin of yours?" Alastair interrupted him swiftly, feeling a growing pride radiating inside him.

"Please," Dean begged, his throat dry causing his voice to come out scratchy and hoarse, "Please Alastair."

"Begging doesn't amuse me Dean," the demon scolded, "I want to hear you say what you want."

Dean closed his eyes for only the briefest of moments, feeling humiliation flush to his cheeks. "I want you," Dean grumbled.

"Oh? And just what do you want me to do?" Alastair continued on with his charade, his voice almost melodic.

Dean hesitated at first, finally sacrificing his willpower in the sake of lust, "I, I want you to, to screw me."

A devious, yet victorious, grin spread over Alastair's lips as he lent down to whisper seductively in his hunter's ear. "That's what I thought," he murmured, running his tongue alongside Dean's ear all the way down to his earlobe.

Dean gritted his teeth somewhat in frustration, snapping back angrily, "Oh just get on with it already." Without another word, Alastair grasped Dean roughly by the hips and jerked himself deep inside the hunter. Dean clawed desperately against the demon, waiting for the pain to subside and the pleasure to begin.

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Sam propped himself up on his elbow, looking over towards Ruby who had the blanket pulled up protectively over her breasts. "What?" he asked, leaning in to nuzzle her playfully. That's one thing he truly enjoyed about her, she was – _fun_. It went beyond all the freaky games they played in the bedroom, no Ruby understood his humor and so he wasn't afraid to use it around her.

The demon stroked the young Winchester's hair lightly as he nibbled lightly on her neck, a faint smile spreading over her lips. "You were really going at it there," she muttered.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, his lips still moving gingerly over her soft flesh.

"I mean, you were drinking me up like a human juice box or something," Ruby responded, snorting lightheartedly.

Sam pulled away from her abruptly, frowning slightly. "Is there something wrong with that?" he asked innocently.

"Well no," Ruby reassured him, edging her way slightly closer to him, "But I guess that just depends on your opinion of right and wrong. I mean, not too long ago this was all against your morals or whatever."

Sam sighed wearily, "Ruby, this isn't exactly—,"

"Easy?" Ruby interrupted him quickly, "Yeah, I get it Sam."

"Well then if you get it, why don't you tell me what to do? What comes next?" the hunter scoffed.

Ruby rolled her eyes, licking her lips delicately, "Look Sam, I don't know what you want me to say. It looks like to me that you're still holding back, that you're not trying."

Sam grasped the demon's forearm desperately, looking her dead in the eye. "Believe me, Ruby I _am _trying," he urged.

"Then why so secretive? Why do you call me sounding so ashamed?" she snapped, brushing his hand away harshly before turning to leave the bed.

"Like we weren't sneaking around before?" Sam retorted, "Ruby, how am I supposed to just walk around admitting this?"

"If you know this is the right thing to do, if you _really_ believe that I'm trying to help you, then you shouldn't have a problem with it Sam," Ruby replied, beginning to slip her shirt back over her head.

Sam glanced down at the bed sheets, carelessly playing with the fabric between his fingers, he honestly hadn't thought about it that way. He let out a light sigh, "Ruby, I'm sorry. I—,"

"Oh don't even start," Ruby interrupted him swiftly, pulling up her jeans before walking across the room in which to stand at the window.

Sam said nothing for a moment, remaining silent as he pulled his jeans from the floor and began to put them on himself. He then slowly made his way over to Ruby's location, wrapping his arms delicately around her waste in which to pull her closer. At first, the demon elbowed him roughly just below the ribs, but still Sam persisted. At last he could feel the tension melting out of her muscles as she soon relaxed in his grasp. Turning his head slightly to the side, Sam slipped his face in towards the nape of Ruby's neck kissing the skin lightly in which to make her shiver pleasantly in his arms. "I don't wanna hurt you," he said, his breath tingling her flesh even further.

Ruby let out a deep sigh, lifting her own arms in which to intertwine them with Sam's. "It's okay," she responded, turning around to face him, "I can't stay mad at you, Sammy."

Sam placed a hand against her cheek, looking her deep in the eyes. "But you're right," he cleared his throat, "I shouldn't feel so ashamed about this. I shouldn't be holding back."

Ruby's eyes lit up as the words tumbled out of the young Winchester's mouth. She kissed him feverishly on the lips before pulling away abruptly. "Then don't," she urged, "Don't hide what's inside you Sam. Don't pretend to be someone else when you're not."

"That's easy to say when _I'm_ not even sure who I am Ruby," Sam murmured quietly.

Ruby ran a hand through the hunter's hair, trying her best to encourage him – to break his walls down, so to speak. She whispered in his ear as she placed tiny kisses all along the side of his jaw, "Let me help you then. You and me, we can figure this out together. I'm here for you Sam, I'm here whenever you need me. You know that."

"Yeah, I know," Sam replied pulling her into a firm hug, "Sometimes it's scary how much you do for me."

Ruby smiled almost sadistically, feeling just how needily Sam clung to her. Like a newborn infant clinging to its mother, for love for security. She continued to stroke his hair, silently reassuring him as he just continued to hold onto her. "Shh Sam, it's okay. It'll be okay," Ruby muttered, kissing him lightly atop the forehead.

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Dean lay flat on the mattress of the motel bed, covers scattered in disarray, heaving for breath. His cheeks were flushed, his skin drenched – but, he'd enjoyed it. And that was something that scared Dean almost more than Hell itself, the fact that he was actually fucking Alastair. That he _liked_ it. It was something that Dean would've never imagined in a thousand years, yet he accepted it. Invited it, even.

Alastair glanced over his shoulder as he sat on the edge of the bed, buttoning his dress shirt. "I gotta say," the demon snickered, "You moan like a little bitch there, Dean."

Dean turned to face Alastair, taking a deep breath before even daring to speak. He couldn't understand why, but somehow their little _games_ exhausted him so. To the point, in fact, that the hunter could hardly breathe without strain. "Sc- Screw you," Dean managed to stammer.

Alastair paused from his dressing simply to look over at Dean, which of course made the hunter squirm in his seat. He positively _hated_ when Alastair stared at him – sure, he didn't mind screwing him, but there was something devastatingly overwhelming about the demon's eyes. Dean shivered. "Tell me, Dean," Alastair licked his lips deviously, "How're you feeling right about now, hmm?"

Dean grunted as he tried his best to shift upright toward the headboard of the bed, his arms shaking with the effort. "What's th- that got to do with anything?" Dean retorted, taking airy breaths in between each of the words.

A sick smile spread across Alastair's lips as he leaned in close to the hunter, his eyes still fixed intently upon Dean's. "You're weak," he muttered, getting well beyond the boundaries of Dean's personal space, "I like you weak."

Before Dean could speak, or even blink for that matter, Alastair was upon him once more wrenching at his slick skin. This time, however, Dean made no struggle in attempts for dominance – there was no point. Dean felt drained and, to be quite honest, rather disgusted with himself at the moment. As Alastair was just beginning to make his way down the hunter's neck, he stopped pulling away abruptly.

"No, he mumbled precariously, "I don't think so."

Dean stared at the demon blankly, genuinely surprised by his actions. "What are you doing?" Dean asked, his voice barely grazing a whisper.

"I'm leaving you, Deano. It's about time I checked out anyway, wouldn't you agree?" Alastair replied smugly, adjusting his top button before arising from the bed.

"But why?" Dean urged, feeling an uncomfortable pressure building in his groin area from the way Alastair had aroused him so.

Alastair arched an eyebrow suspiciously at the hunter. "Better watch yourself, almost sounds like you already miss me," he smiled sadistically.

"In your freaking dreams," Dean managed to scoff.

Alastair wrapped his fingers around the door knob, propping the door open partially by a crack. "Hmm, possibly," was all the more the demon had to say before disappearing into the hallway.

Dean snorted softly as he sat alone with himself. What was the purpose of that? What, a quick fuck and then it's off to say farewell? Dean didn't understand it – but then again, he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to. As reality over took him once more, the hunter suddenly realized that he'd better get the place straightened up before Sam came back. Dean could see it now, how well of a scene that would play out. Hopping quickly out of the bed, Dean grunted lightly as he began to throw the blankets back over the bed and arranged the pillows in an at least semi-neat fashion. He'd never been particularly good at making beds, but this certainly didn't look bad. Non suspecting at least, which was good enough for him. Slowly he turned towards the bathroom, gasping out in pain as he took the first couple of steps. Damn, Alastair had really done a number on him – Dean could barely walk, much less do anything else. How in the world was he supposed to explain that?

Letting out a pain-filled sigh, Dean continued to edge his way towards the bathroom, closing the door lightly behind him as he'd finally gotten inside. Stepping into the bathtub, Dean turned the wall handle and allowed warm droplets of water to sprinkle down from the shower head up above. Closing his eyes, Dean placed a single hand against the tile and allowed the steamy water to pound on his spinal area and race down the rest of his back. Suddenly, a swift noise from the other room caught his attention and Dean immediately jerked his head upward.

"Dean?" Castiel's voice echoed.

"I'm in here Cas!" Dean shouted over the running water, feeling nearly out of breath as he did so.

Dean could hear the angel take a few steps closer to the archway, leaning close to the wood of the door. "You're bathing?" Castiel questioned, although it was easy to tell given the fact that Dean in fact had the water running.

"Yeah, but I'll be out in a minute," Dean replied, feeling a sudden pang of guilt wrench in his gut. What if Uriel or Taharial showed up? Or, even worse, what if this so called superior angel showed up? Could they still smell Alastair's scent? Would they have known what Dean had done? All these thoughts whirled through Dean's head so fast, making him feel so panicked that he thought he might be sick at any given moment.

Why was he doing this – why in God's name would Dean Winchester be screwing Alastair? And it wasn't like Alastair was just any demon, that could at least be understandable. But no, Alastair was practically _the_ demon of Dean's life. Or death, rather. The demon who singlehandedly sliced and carved Dean's soul away until there was almost nothing left. The demon who held Dean's hand as the hunter himself tortured the likes of others. The demon who knew everything and anything there was to know about Dean – practically knowing Dean better than he knew himself.

And then it hit Dean: what if he _liked_ Alastair? What if, despite all the hatred and fury he held for the demon and for all the torments he bestowed upon him, Dean actually enjoyed Alastair's company? It was a strange thought indeed, but it did in fact hold some logic. Every time Alastair was around Dean, well, the hunter could barely keep himself under control. His stomach churned, his spine tingled, his nerves were in constant disarray. Never before had any creature, angel, demon, or anything in between, effected Dean liked this. Had never had such a control over Dean's emotions, able to make him flinch with the simple murmuring of a word. Dean shivered subconsciously. Back in that warehouse, he had promised himself that it was all a mistake. That he had been blinded, lead astray, and that would be all over afterwards. But just now Alastair had come to Dean, alone in his motel room, and had lain with him for the second time. And not only that, but Dean had wanted it. Had _asked_ for it, and actually expressed his desires in words. Something bigger was going down here than Dean had anticipated and it was all just beginning to be a little more than he could contain. A little more than he could hide – but he had to.

Hearing the slamming of the door, Dean blinked suddenly feeling a cold sweat flourish over him despite the heat of the shower. Soon he could hear Sam's voice muttering something to Castiel and the smell of pizza filled the air. Dean quickly scrubbed himself over, before shutting off the water and reaching for a nearby towel to dry himself with. Then, after slipping into some clean clothes, the hunter emerged from the bathroom _slowly _and _painfully_.

"Hey," Sam said, taking a bite from his slice of pizza.

Castiel was leaning against the backboard of Sam's bed, his arms down at his side in a casual and relaxed manner. "Hello Dean," the angel greeted in his typical manner.

"What happened to just getting pizza?" Dean joked, trying his best to disguise his pain with lighthearted laughter.

Sam frowned a bit, watching Dean's slow stride to the counter where the pizza box lay. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean you were gone for like an hour. What happened, dude?" Dean continued with his cheerful mask, just wanting to lay down and die from sheer exhaustion.

"Oh," Sam replied rather hesitantly, "I uh, got a little side tracked."

Dean snickered, "Was a strip joint?"

Sam scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment – this could potentially be a ticket out of one of Dean's rants. "You guessed it," he chuckled somewhat.

Dean sighed, a dopey smile spread over his lips. "Nice going, Sammy," he praised, patting his brother lightly on the shoulder, before stifling another two steps towards the counter. Dean had to grip the edge for support.

"What's wrong with you?" Castiel asked suddenly.

Both Dean and Sam gave the angel a strange look. "What d'ya mean?" Dean asked, swallowing hard. He could feel his heart rate beginning to accelerate already.

Castiel took a step forward, his brow furrowed in slight suspicion. "You're," he paused, overlooking Dean from head to toe, "Limping."

Sam turned his head, looking at Dean's posture and how his brother had to hold onto the counter simply to stand – Cas was right, something was definitely off. "Dude, what's your deal?" he asked.

Dean's eyes darted between the two, feeling his breath beginning to hitch even as he just stood there breathing. "N- Nothing," he sputtered.

"Cas is right, you're limping," Sam insisted.

"What?" Dean denied sharply, "No I'm not."

"Then why are you holding onto the counter?" Castiel challenged.

Dean gritted his teeth slightly, beginning to become irritated with the angel standing before him. Taking his hands off the edge of the smooth surface, Dean side stepped over just slightly feeling unstable as though he might fall any minute. "See?" he urged, letting his arms out on either side of him.

Sam rolled his eyes stepping closer to Dean and placing a firm hand upon his brother's shoulder. Barely using any force, the younger hunter pushed Dean backwards in which he stumbled before actually falling over. "See?" Sam retorted, flailing his arms out in mockery.

"Alright fine, fine, now help me up," Dean snorted, "Dude, help me up."

"Not until you tell us what's going on," Sam demanded.

Dean looked flabbergasted. "That's good leverage," Castiel comment.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Dean growled at the angel.

Castiel looked as though he were about to speak when Sam cut him off sharply, "Dean, just tell us what's going on."

Dean let out a deep sigh – he'd have to think of some excuse to get himself out of this one. "Alright," he muttered, "Ala—,"

"Hello boys," Taharial interrupted suddenly. The air whooshed around where she just entered the room, the angel herself looking as graceful as ever.

"Taharial," Castiel cleared his throat, "What are you doing here?"

"I've received new orders. We've been instructed to bring the Winchesters ahead of time," she replied simply.

"Both of them?" Castiel questioned.

Taharial nodded silently, her arms folded behind her back making her look very soldier-like indeed. Sam just watched her, she was more or less how he had pictured the angels. Not in appearance necessarily, but in stature. Her gestures and the way she spoke, very mysterious but definitely not arrogant. Dean cleared his throat suddenly, making Sam jerk his head in his brother's direction. Extending a hand, Sam helped Dean up, the elder Winchester glaring daggers at his brother all the while.

Taharial arched an eyebrow at Dean in question, looking over his limp posture. "Dean, come here if you will please," she asked, though it was more of a commandment.

Dean did as he was told, taking a few limp steps toward the angel before appearing before her. "What?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Just, hold still," she replied, nearly closing the space between them. Reaching both of her hands up, Taharial placed her palms on Dean's temples closing her eyes. Her lips began to move but she was either speaking too fast for Dean to understand or, most likely, she was speaking enochian.

In an instant though, Dean could feel a cool tingling sensation spreading over his body almost like the feeling one gets in their mouth when chewing spearmint gum. He could feel it spreading all over his _damaged_ areas – flowing through his legs and all the other places in which Alastair had so greedily touched him. Then, with one last pulsing shock, Dean gasped out as he felt his very core being shaken. "Wh- What was that?" Dean heaved, slouching over for breath.

Taharial took her time answering, being sure to take plenty of deep breaths herself. "I was trying my best to heal you," she said, "But my best was not nearly good enough apparently."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, his gaze darting between his brother and the nearby angel.

"It doesn't concern you," Taharial retorted.

Sam huffed somewhat in annoyance, placing his hands firmly on his hips. "Bull shit it doesn't," he scoffed.

"Sam," Taharial pleaded, her eyes looking rather drained, "Please." The young hunter said nothing further, instead looking down almost as if in embarrassment.

"We should get moving," Castiel stated.

"Right," Taharial agreed, moving towards the door. She twisted the handle, holding the door open in which for all three men to exit.

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Dean let out a light sigh as the Impala inched forward in the slow rolling traffic. "Damn cities," he mumbled. He'd never liked cities – they were too loud, too crowded, and most of their was no space just to run his baby. Why, out on that open road, Dean could press his foot to the gas pedal and get away with nearly any speed he so desired. Here was another story entirely, he couldn't each move a foot without another car's bumper right there in his face.

"It's not much further," Castiel stated, looking out the window at the tall skyscraper buildings curiously.

"My ass," Dean retorted under breath, rubbing a hand over his forehead wearily.

"Be patient," Taharial insisted, placing a hand upon Dean' shoulder. Her grip was firm, but not _threatening_. Soothing, almost.

Sam cleared his throat, "So uh, what can you tell us about this superior guy?"

"Zachariah," Taharial clarified.

"Right, Zachariah," Sam muttered.

"He receives more orders than we do," Taharial began.

Dean scoffed, "So what? That just means he's got a bigger to-do list."

"Dean," Castiel scolded, "He receives his orders for us too."

"So he's your boss then?" Sam arched an eyebrow suspiciously.

"In a sense, yes," Taharial nodded.

"And you want us to be on our best behavior? Be good for the baby sitter, that kinda thing?" Dean frowned somewhat.

"Please Dean," Castiel said, "Just show a little respect."

The hunter said nothing further, just pressed his foot lightly upon the gas pedal in which to edge forward atop the asphalt. Making a left turn, Dean was finally able to pick up a little speed scooting the Impala onto the end of the block. As both he and Sam as well as the angels piled out of the vehicle, Sam fed the meter looking upward at the extremely tall building before them.

"Sandover Bridge and Iron Incorporated," Sam read aloud, looking over the large letters plastered on the side of the building.

"Yeah, sounds like a real winner," Dean mumbled, "Let's go."

The group made their way up the small pathway which led to the building and entered inside the air conditioned lobby. It felt so cool and refreshing but still they swiftly moved down the hallway and in front of the elevators. With a loud ding the sliver doors opened and a group of suited business men and women exited. From the other end of the hallway more workers entered along with Dean, Sam, Taharial, and Castiel. With yet another chime, the doors closed and the elevator began to move.

All was silent. Unnervingly so, in fact. Dean and Sam looked like schmucks compared to the many capitalists amidst the confined space. With their ripped jeans and leather jackets, that came as no surprise. And Taharial, well – she _sort_ of fit in. She wasn't entirely casual, but then again that purple hair really didn't do her justice in the business world. Still, it was drastically surprisingly just how well Castiel seemed to blend in with everyone. He appeared so professional with his hands clasped behind his back, his long and almost threatening trench coat stiffly clinging to his sides, and of course his intense stare. Dean would've laughed at the irony but now seemed like neither the time nor the place.

"Excuse me," a light voice murmured from behind Dean. The hunter turned to see a young office woman slipping her hand beside him in which to reach the elevator buttons. He threw her a devious smile, but was disappointed to see that she was completely fixated on the angel standing aside him. Not only that, but the woman purposefully rubbed her hand across the side of Castiel's trench coat as she returned her arms to her side. Castiel glanced over his shoulder, his expression virtually unchanged with the exception of his brow furrowed slightly. "Hi," she smiled, "Where are you and you're, uh party, headed?"

"To a superior on the upper floor," Castiel replied simply.

The woman's eyes lit up at this response – she obviously thought Castiel was some big shot or something. Well, if a big shot counts as a member of the heavenly host, then she was definitely on to something. "Oh, so you're _all_ involved in some sort of business then?" she asked, looking over at Dean and Sam doubtfully.

"But of course," Castiel replied as though it were the most apparent thing in the world, "It's a matter of the utmost importance." With that, the angel turned away from the woman faced forward silently for the rest of the ride.

Dean just snickered to himself at Castiel's obvious rejection to the lady – owned.

At last the group had made it to their final destination, a solemn hallway filled with lonely whitewash doors. Only the sound of footsteps upon the floorboards could be heard as they echoed through the corridor, until coming to the last door to be seen. Taharial reached for the door knob, but Sam quickly grabbed it first. "Uh please," he muttered, "Ladies first."

Castiel tilted his head to the side strangely, while Taharial simply nodded in understanding of the gesture. "Thank you," she replied stepping forth.

Castiel followed, and then came Dean. The elder Winchester leaned in closer to his brother, whispering, "Show off."

Sam looked as though he were about to say something but snapped his mouth shut as he closed the door lightly behind him. No one spoke, but both brothers looked on precariously to a man who stood at the far side of the room facing the windows. He didn't look particularly tall, but was well dressed in a black suit from head to toe. Upon his head, his hair appeared balding with gray around the sides.

_Some superior_, Dean thought to himself, rather unamused.

At last the man turned, facing both Dean and Sam with a pleasant smile upon his face. "Hello boys," he said cheerfully, "I'm Zachariah."

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**Author's Note: **I hope my lack of updating made up just a little bit with sort of a longer chapter. I was actually out of state for most of last week and I didn't have WiFi so yeah, I guess that compensates at least a teeny tiny bit haha.

Anyways, hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I'll be sure to update soon. Thanks for reading!


	6. For Everything There Is A Price

**Disclaimer: **All materials belong to their respectful owners. Any and all of the following written is completely, one-hundred percent, fan-written and I claim no profit for it what so ever.

**Author's Note:** Hello again! May I just say first and foremost that I apologize deeply for taking such an ever long time to get another chapter out here. Procrastination is indeed my middle name and I also have a habit of biting off more than I can chew at times, so again I'm sorry.

Anyhow though, we last left off leading up to the events of 4x17, whereas Dean and Sam meet Zachariah. This chapter really isn't going to be focusing on that episode so much as it is Dean's growing confliction and hidden desires directed towards Alastair. But, without anything further, please enjoy!

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**For Everything There Is A Price**

Dean and Sam exchanged a doubtful glance, both Castiel and Taharial remaining cool and statue-like. "Wait, you're Zachariah?" Sam asked after a moment.

"Not quite what you were expecting, eh?" Zachariah chuckled at Sam's hesitation.

Sam cleared his throat in a semi-awkward fashion. He certainly hoped that his words hadn't offended this _superior_ angel. "Well, uh, I didn't mean—"

"Oh no, it's quite alright," Zachariah assured the young hunter, taking a seat in the chair behind him, "Believe me, I had no interest in popping down here into one of these smelly things." The angel grimaced as he overlooked his chosen vessel—he certainly could've done better.

"Then why did you?" Dean snapped suddenly, ignoring the most oppressing look Sam was throwing him out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't care at this point—even Zachariah's tone was slightly offensive to the human race. It disgusted him.

"Ah Dean," Zachariah sighed, a weary frown spreading over his lips, "I've been told that it is, apparently, _necessary_. Tell me, Castiel, have you heard from Uriel?" The superior now directed his attention away from the hunter and towards the solemn angel who stood in the corner.

Castiel cleared his throat stepping forth, his hands still held firmly behind his back—_good little soldier_. "I regret to say I have not. Last we spoke we discussed Taharial's earth-coming. From what I understand he gone to receive revelation," Castiel informed him rather professionally.

"You understand wrong then," Zachariah retorted, "Uriel's not been to receive revelation for several days now."

Castiel blinked in silence, looking slightly taken aback. Where else could Uriel be, if not seeking guidance? And why hadn't he offered them any assistance with the task at hand? All of this perplexed Castiel to no end and, quite frankly, the angel looked like he'd just been bitch slapped. At least in Sam's opinion. He opened his mouth as though about to speak when he was abruptly cut off by an unexpected gasp from Taharial.

The angel was hunched over and was clutching her abdomen in pain. "Sister," Castiel murmured, at her side in an instance in which to offer her aid.

"Your vessel is weakened," Zachariah frowned, slowly arising from his seat.

"I'm fine," Taharial insisted through clenched teeth. She tried to straighten up, but failed miserably when she choked up black venom similar to what Alastair had infected Dean with. She exchanged a knowing look with Dean, which Zachariah was sure to catch of course.

Zachariah cleared his throat, "Sam, what'ya say you scooch it on outta here and give us a few minutes with your brother here?"

Sam's facial expression fell in a split second. "What?" he gaped, "I don't think—"

"Sam," Dean urged, interrupting his brother swiftly.

Sam huffed in annoyance, but did as he was directed. "Fine, I'll just wait outside I guess." With that, he marched silently to the door. Almost as soon as Sam had exited, Castiel lifted one hand closing the blinds on the door's small window without any hassle.

"Your brother's an obedient fellow, isn't he?" Zachariah snickered light-heartedly.

Dean folded his arms tightly over his chest, obviously not impressed with Zachariah's snide remarks. "C'mon chuckles let's get on with it, I don't got all day here. See, some of us actually have things that need to get done, the hunter spat coldly.

Castiel's eyes seemed to darken as he glared at Dean for his words. "Dean—"

"It's alright Castiel," Zachariah interrupted him, the smug grin never leaving his lips, "It's right to business, I see."

"I believe I've been poisoned," Taharial admitted awkwardly.

"And how is it you've contracted the hunter's _disease_?" Zachariah inquired.

"I'm not sure," Taharial sighed leaning against the desk for support, "Dean was healed, but..." Her voice trailed off.

"He's infected once again," Castiel carried on Taharial's sentence.

"Infected?" Dean echoed doubtfully.

Castiel glanced over at the hunter, the faintest hint of hesitation and distain gleaming in his eyes. "Alastair's presence still courses actively through your veins," the angel explained simply.

Dean could feel embarrassment coat in guilt creeping along his cheeks, causing them to become engulfed in a deep pink. Lying to angels about his involvement with Alastair—what a fine mess he'd gotten himself into. Avoiding telling Sam about it was one thing, but this was another matter entirely. These were _angels_ Dean was dealing with here. Divine messengers of God, or whatever. The hunter could foresee some serious smiting ahead in the near future.

"Dean," Zachariah cleared his throat, drawing the hunter away from his thoughts, "You seem—_weak_."

Dean glanced toward the superior angel, swallowing hard as he now felt strangely nervous in not only Zachariah's gaze, but the other's as well. "And what's that supposed to mean?" he muttered, his voice gruff with apparent anger. And suddenly, Alastair's words rang out in his head. Like a whistle, clear as day—_You're weak. I like you weak._

Zachariah looked slightly taken aback at Dean's defensiveness, but made no comment at the hunter's begrudging attitude. Directing his eyes downward though, Zachariah cocked an eyebrow suspiciously at Dean's strange standing posture. "You're shaking," he said, pointing a finger in the direction of Dean's legs.

The hunter looked down towards his knees only to find that they were indeed trembling. Whether it was out of fear or nerves, Dean couldn't tell—one thing he did know for certain though was that he was feeling faint. So faint, in fact, that Dean's vision was beginning to curve and swirl, creating bizarre shapes and patterns before his very eyes.

Stumbling only a few steps backwards, Dean soon found himself crashing onto the floor with an ominous thud. The corners of his sight began to darken, a thick blackness threatening to overtake him at any moment. The last thing Dean was able to see clearly, was Sam's distressed face as the younger hunter dashed into the room and to his brother's aid.

"Dean!"—And all faded into a freezing silence.

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Sam was pacing the motel room floor, glancing over his shoulder every now and again to look where Dean was still unconscious just behind. On the phone he was listening to Bobby ramble on about how he and Dean needed to _pull together_ and how Dean _needs him right now_.

Letting out a weary sigh, Sam pinched the brim of his nose waiting for Bobby to finish his sentence. "Look Bobby," Sam cleared his throat, "I didn't call for a lector. I called because I need your help."

"Well excuse me for wantin' to offer up some advice, jeeze," Bobby grumbled on the other line.

Sam sighed once more, "I didn't mean it that way, Bobby. It's just, Dean—there's something wrong with him."

"Ya think? The boy's been to Hell and back Sam," Bobby scoffed.

"No, I mean—this is different. There's something _really_ wrong going on here. Dean's not himself anymore, Bobby," Sam retorted, his voice barely grazing a whisper.

Bobby leaned forward in his seat, his attention now fully focused on the conversation at hand. "Like how not himself?" the older hunter inquired.

"I dunno," Sam muttered, leaning on the edge of the nearby kitchen table, "He's been quiet, I guess. Not to mention he could hardly stand this morning."

"What?" Bobby gaped in surprise, "How'd that happen?"

"I'm not sure, he was just all shaky and stuff. I really think—" Just then Sam could hear Dean stir beneath the sheets of the bed, "I gotta run. Look, I'll call you later, okay?"

"A'right," Bobby sighed in exasperation.

"Alright, bye," Sam said, before closing the lid of the phone and tucking it into his pocket.

"Hey," Dean muttered, sliding the bed sheets off his chest as he say up.

"Hey," Sam replied, taking a few steps towards Dean's bed, "How you feeling?"

Dean shrugged, "Been better. Was that Bobby?"

"Yeah it was actually. I just wanted to give him a call and let him know what happened, you know?" Sam replied, almost hesitantly.

"What did happen?" Dean asked wearily as he rubbed the blur from his eyes.

"You don't remember?" Sam frowned, coming to sit on the edge of Dean's bed.

Dean paused, simply to look at his brother sitting here before him. "Obviously not," he chuckled somewhat.

"Well, you sorta collapsed," Sam informed him rather sheepishly.

"Collapsed?" Dean echoed, frowning somewhat.

"Yeah," Sam scratched the back of his head awkwardly, "You were all shaky and crap, according to Zachariah anyway. But yeah then you just fell over." Dean said nothing for a moment, staring off blankly into space. He'd done it—he passed out in front of the angels. The freaking _angels_. There was no excuse he could make now which would be sufficient. "Hey, you okay?" Sam asked at last, his brow furrowed in concern.

Dean cleared his throat, "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" He just shrugged off the doubtful glare Sam threw him, tossing his legs over the edge of the bed in which to arise.

Taking a hesitant step forward, Dean could feel the muscles cramping up in his ankles a clear indicator that he was not prepared to walk properly. Out of the corner of him with those ever intent eyes, which of course only provided further incentive for the eldest hunter to press onward. Grunting ever slightly, Dean actually took but one step before his legs gave out on him and he, yet again, came falling down onto the floor.

"Dean!" Sam called, kneeling at his brother's side in which to help him up.

Dean shoved his brother away, not roughly, but just enough to show Sam that he was indeed fine—for the most part, at least. "I got it," Dean insisted, gripping the edge of the bed in which to hoist himself up, "Just a little klutzy is all."

"Klutzy?" Sam questioned , straying close to his brother's side. Dean opened his mouth as though about to speak, when suddenly he stumbled nearly falling yet again. Sam was quick to catch him though, gripping Dean's torso firmly as he plopped him on the bed once more. "Klutzy my ass," Sam muttered placing his hands on his hips, "What's going on with you?"

Dean was half-tempted to shoot into denial mode once again, but he stopped himself pausing to think. He couldn't lie anymore—he couldn't exactly tell the truth either though. "I," he hesitated, "I dunno."

Sam sighed in exasperation, "Dean, _please_, talk to me. You're not yourself lately."

Dean glanced upward catching his brother's eyes—full of desperation and need. "Yeah, well, things haven't exactly made it possible for me to _be myself_ or whatever," Dean cleared his throat.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam frowned, edging in just slightly closer to Dean.

"Sam, in case you didn't notice, things have been freaking topsy turvy these past couple days," Dean scoffed sarcastically, "Now how exactly am I just supposed to act chipper all of a sudden?"

Sam remained quiet for a moment, not really certain of how to respond. He knew some serious shit had been going down, but he really hadn't bothered to ask Dean how it affecting him. Sam just thought that he'd be fine—Dean was _always_ fine in the end. "Does this have anything to do with Alastair?" Sam asked after a long drawn pause.

Dean shifted uncomfortably, as the conversation was now heading in a direction which he wasn't sure he could follow. "Yeah," he replied though, his voice hushed as though keeping a deep secret.

"Dean, what happened in that warehouse? I know that _has_ to be a part of it," Sam urged.

Dean swallowed hard, allowing his eyelids to dip shut for the briefest of seconds. He could hear his heart booming against his eardrums, threatening to block out any other noises which surrounded him. "Sam, I can't ta—" But the hunter was cut off by a sudden vibration of his cell phone.

"What's that?" Sam furrowed his brow, watching as Dean fished the device out of his pocket. Dean ignored his brother's inquiry, popping open the phone in which to see the screen. A text message. Dean swallowed hard, keeping the phone tilted away from Sam's line of sight before pressing the button in which to read it.

_What happened to our little secret?_

Dean couldn't believe it. As a matter of fact, he had to blink several times just to make sure he hadn't imagined the whole freaking thing. The number was not one he recognized, but Dean knew undoubtedly who the sender was—who they had to be.

_Take a peak outside. If you can._

It was Alastair, Alastair was taunting him. And suddenly, Dean had this itching desire to go to the window. To look outside, just as Alastair had requested. "Dean, what is it?" Sam questioned once again, his voice growing more impatient with each passing minute, "What are you doing?" The younger hunter watched in confusion as his brother leapt from his place atop the mattress and began to hobble across the room towards the window. Dean staggered for breath as he leaned against the wall, edging along slowly in which to reach the glass that would allow him to look amidst the outdoors. At last Dean clutched the rim of the window pane within his fingers, leaning his head against the glass his collecting into a smeary blur.

Outside in the parking lot, surrounded by many a car, Alastair stood simply looking up at Dean's present position. He bore a smug grin upon his lips, his arms folded tightly over his chest—his posture was enough to send shivers down Dean's spine as he watched his former master stare at him deviously. Dean actually found himself raising a hand to press against the glass, his hand curving, his fingers needing. So desperately willing to grab. Alastair raised a finger to his lips, motioning to Dean to keep silent and not reveal any of their late _visits_ with one another.

Just then Dean startled, hearing a noise behind him and turning to see Sam right there at his back. His brother's eyebrows were knitted together in the deepest of perplexity, his mouth twisted into a deep frown. Leaning forward, just slightly past Dean, Sam looked out the window glancing all around. "What the heck are you looking at?" he urged, his voice now sounding irritated more than anything.

Dean glanced back at the parking lot, his eyes searching for the spot where Alastair was standing just moments ago—but alas, the demon was gone. Alastair was one fast son of a bitch, Dean had to give him that. Smiling to himself, almost relishing in the secret, Dean turned away from the window and began to hobble back towards the bed. "Nothing," he replied smoothly, flopping down atop the covers once more.

Towards the doorway, there came a rustling of feathers and whoosh of air, Castiel appearing before the two brothers. "Hey Cas," Sam said, his voice sounding a bit more upbeat at the angel's presence.

"Hello Sam," Castiel nodded, before directing his attention towards Dean, "I see you're awake, Dean."

"What gave me away?" Dean smiled sarcastically. Castiel said nothing in response, instead silently striving over to Dean's position on the bed and invading the hunter's space far too quickly for Dean's liking. "Whoa, whoa, what'ya doing?" Dean shoved the angel away as Castiel tried to grab a hold of his shirt.

"I will attempt to heal you," Castiel replied simply.

"What about Taharial?" Sam questioned.

Castiel turned just slightly over his shoulder to face the younger Winchester. "She is decommissioned for a time. Not to worry though, Uriel will be helping to escort her to some healing of her own," Castiel informed him, his voice gruff and monotone.

"I thought Uriel was digging the lying scene lately," Dean muttered, feeling slightly sheepish as Castiel turned around to face him once more eyes a frosty stare, "What with not going to receive revelation or whatever."

"I was mistaken about Uriel's intentions," Castiel said coldly, "Uriel was not _lying _to anyone."

"Okay, jeeze, calm down," Dean shifted uncomfortably.

Castiel let out a light sigh, "Take off your shirt?"

"Say what?" Dean stammered, his voice cracking somewhat in surprise.

"In order for you to be healed, your shirt must be removed," Castiel clarified. Dean and Sam exchanged a hesitant look but still Dean obeyed, lifting the fabric of his shirt over his head until the article itself was removed. "Now lie flat."

Dean did as he was told, straightening out the pillows behind him before lying back against them. As he did so, the hem of his jeans dipped down ever slightly revealing the hunter's hipbone—a _bruised_ hipbone, apparently. This really wouldn't have bothered Sam so much, had it not been for the fact that this bruise looked similar to that of a bite mark. Sam caught Dean's gaze, in which his brother promptly pulled up his pants to conceal the mark that Castiel obviously didn't catch sight of. Instead, the angel placed his palm flat against Dean's forehead, the other hand flat on his stomach. Castiel then closed his eyes, his brow furrowed as though in deep concentration.

At first, nothing happened, and Dean was slightly doubtful that Castiel would be able to do much of anything—but then there came a sudden feeling. A feeling of warmth, which spread over his entire body in only a few seconds. It tingled, and burned somewhat, but it still felt relaxing. Dean gasped out lightly at the bizarre sensation which had overcome his body. "Dean, you okay?" Sam asked in concern.

Dean opened his mouth as though about to speak, when Castiel cut him off abruptly. "Please, don't talk," he instructed firmly. Dean had no complaints with that. Everything in this moment was just so freaking peaceful, he didn't want it to end. But it did, much too soon for Dean's taste, and the hunter was left laying stunned on the mattress. "It's finished," Castiel announced.

"That's it?" Dean asked, the slightest hint of a needy undertone standing out in his voice.

"Yes, you are no longer infected, you should be able to function properly, without any hassle," Castiel nodded, turning to walk towards the window.

Sam frowned somewhat, "How is it Taharial wasn't able to do that?"

"Taharial's abilities are far greater than my own," Castiel began, running his fingers lightly along the curtains which were tucked to the side, "But Alastair's poison was a challenge, even for someone of her skill. Dean was not as contaminated this second time around, but Taharial was weakened from before."

Dean couldn't help but smile silently at the praise Castiel had just offered to Alastair—apparently Alastair was powerful enough to overpower an angel's healing skills. Who'd have thought? He wasn't exactly sure why, but he could feel the slightest bit of pride swelling up inside him at that thought. It was like he found comfort in the fact that Alastair could still whoop an angel's ass. Shaking his head vigorously though, Dean wiped the idea from his head quickly. Alastair was still a demon, which meant he shouldn't be thinking those thoughts at all. Dean supposed the same went for the more _dirtier_ thoughts he'd had about the demon too though...

"Dean," Sam called, making Dean jump somewhat, "Did you hear anything Cas just said?" Apparently, the hunter had become so engulfed in his own thoughts he hadn't heard Castiel explaining what came next for them.

"Sorry," he cleared his throat awkwardly.

Castiel folded his arms behind his back, pacing the floor slowly, "As I was saying, Zachariah has a haunting for you to investigate in the P.T. Sandover building."

"Wait a second," Dean interrupted him swiftly, "The freaking apocalypse is coming down on us and you want us to hunt down a ghost?"

"Dean, it was my suggestion," Castiel informed him, feeling slightly taken aback by the hunter's obvious distain towards the chosen assignment.

Dean shrugged, "Kinda under-leaguing, don't you think?"

"He's just trying to watch out for you, Dean," Sam interjected.

"I thought that with the current situation you may need time to recuperate," Castiel nodded.

Dean's eyes darted between his brother and the angel standing before him, chuckling lightheartedly. "Not to burst anyone's bubble here, but I'm really okay. I'm all good to walk thanks to chuckles over here and all is well in the world," Dean assured them, a hint of sarcasm to his tone.

"Still, Zachariah agrees—come by the building after closing hours to investigate. I'll meet you there," Castiel decreed. And, without a moment to protest, the angel had vanished in the blink of an eye.

"He really does mean well for you, Dean," Sam half-smiled.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Dean nodded, flopping down once again onto his bed.

Sam just watched his brother for a moment, uncertain of what to say or even do next. He wanted to talk to Dean, he really did, but he just couldn't help but think that he wouldn't be told the entire truth. There were so many questions, _suspicions_, which lay unconfirmed or unanswered.

Still, the younger hunter allowed a long drawn sigh to escape his lips as he stood there. "Well, I'm gonna grab a quick shower," he announced already heading for the door.

"Alright," Dean mumbled, watching as Sam disappeared into the abyss of tile. He allowed his eyes a moment of rest, his head seeping back into the pillow beneath him. It wasn't long before the hunter's fingers found their way just slightly under the hem of his jeans, rubbing over the bruise that decorated his skin—that was one injury Castiel hadn't been able to heal. And, in a way, the hunter was glad at this.

Glad that there was still a piece of him which Heaven could never have, that was all his own. And especially glad that Alastair now had made his mark, in which he could reminiscence on all the terribly nasty thing's he'd done to Dean in the past—and what he would undoubtedly do in the future.

Chills ran up and down Dean's spine at that thought, anticipating. _Waiting_. His fingers tingled as they continued to rest upon the damaged flesh, simply itching to dig into his right pocket and retrieve the cell phone. Just to read over those texts. To relish in the fact that Alastair had contacted him—personally, secretly. Dean couldn't stand the unnerving feeling any longer. Grabbing the cellular device, the hunter flipped his phone open and scrolled through his inbox until he found them. He didn't have to search long, it's not like anyone really had his phone number who would text him anyhow. He read each word individually, letter by letter, absorbing each message as best he could.

Dean wasn't sure what had overcome him next. He wasn't sure where he picked up the knack to move his fingers so fast, but he decided to reply to those messages. The hunter paused momentarily, uncertain of what to say even. One couldn't just go about saying _Hi_ to a former master in the bowels of Hell—something about that just didn't feel right. Like it wasn't good enough for Alastair's eyes even to merely glance over. So instead Dean settled upon, _I saw you._

Pressing the send button, the hunter closed the lid to the phone and waited. Dean couldn't take his eyes away from the screen, gazing with baited breath as he imagined what Alastair's response would be, if the demon sent one at all. He nearly jumped out of his skin as the phone vibrated in his palm, indicating that Alastair had indeed decided to write back, giving him the time of day.

_I realize. Although, I was careful to disguise myself from your brother. He's a nosy fellow, isn't he?_

Dean paused, frowning somewhat. He really hadn't expected their conversation to be directed towards Sam. To be quite frank it almost disappointed him.

_I guess_, He texted back flatly.

This time it didn't take long at all for Alastair to respond. _I see. And I suppose he won't notice your newfound method of communication? Considering you didn't even understand MySpace, as I recall._

Dean couldn't help but chuckle at this—he didn't actually remember explaining that memory to Alastair, but it still pleased him that someone remembered never the less. _Why should he care? He's got his secrets, and I've got mine._

_I wonder what Ruby would say,_ Alastair mused smugly. Just like him to explore all the possibilities of a situation.

_I don't really think she'd care,_ Dean retorted. It made sense, in his opinion at least. What he was doing really couldn't be any more wrong than what those two in their many hours alone. Could it?

_True, but it would be interesting to see her face. She makes the most interesting of expressions,_ Alastair continued, _I had the pleasure of picking her apart once. Her terror was truly amazing._

_Oh, I bet,_ Dean snickered, trying to imagine tears in her eyes. But then he cringed a little, clearing his throat semi-awkwardly.

This was Alastair he was talking to, a demon himself. Hell's greatest torturer, a master in the art of pain. And yet, Dean was having a conversation with him as though he were an old friend from out of town—remembering times spent together one distant summer perhaps. As the reality dawned on him, he felt disgust boil up deep within himself. Like all that he'd been doing in the past week was finally hitting home and making sense. Even if they weren't talking about Ruby, Alastair surely would've found some way to bring torture into the mix and that in itself was just a bit more than Dean could stand. He didn't want to remember the desperate pleas for mercy that shimmered in the eyes of his victims he'd carved apart—he certainly didn't want to remember the emptiness he'd felt as he climbed off that rack after those excruciating thirty years.

_I have to go_, the hunter announced suddenly.

_Of course, Sam will be returning from his shower soon I suspect,_ Alastair replied, almost understandingly.

Dean's swallowed hard at Alastair's knowledge of where he was. And all that he was doing for that matter. It was a little creepy imaging the demon watching over his every move. Still, Dean shook it off, tucking the phone deep inside his pocket once again. He had to stop this with Alastair, it was as simple as that. He couldn't be texting him, or _fucking _him—no, all of it had to go. Dean just had to get his head back in the game and focus on the task at hand. The only trouble was, what if it wasn't that simple? After all, nothing ever was in the life of a Winchester, but what if Dean had dug to deep? What if he'd climbed into a hole in which he would be able to get back out of?

Just then, almost as if on cue, Sam emerged from the bathroom his hair still damp with tiny water droplets. He paused in his footing to glance at Dean, frowning at the color which had drained from his brother's face. "Hey, you okay?" he asked.

"No," Dean cleared his throat, catching Sam's eyes, "But I will be."

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**Author's Note: **So I hope the italics of Dean and Alastair's conversation wasn't too confusing for anyone. I actually got the idea of texting going on between them from _amaresu_ on Archive Of Our Own—specifically their Images Of Broken Light story. Great read, if anyone's interested.

Anyways, I can guarantee you that it won't take nearly as long to get the next chapter out as it has this one. And, for the record, we will be moving forward with the storyline focusing mainly on the events of It's A Terrible Life. Until next time, thanks for reading and I'll be sure to update soon!

This time I promise ^_^


	7. It's A Terrible Life

**Disclaimer: **All materials belong to their respectful owners. Any and all of the following written is completely, one-hundred percent, fan-written and I claim no profit for it what so ever.

**Author's Note: **Aha, see, what did I tell you? This chapter is indeed out faster than the previous one was hehe! Anyhow, we're going to be focusing on the actual events of 4x17 throughout this one (about time, right?) as well as there will also be a twist involving in the angels which you may or may not have seen coming. I really hope you enjoy, without anything further happy reading!

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**It's A Terrible Life**

Taharial wasn't quite sure why she'd been called back here—the warehouse where Alastair had been held, and _tortured_. She wasn't quite sure what was here which could be of any use in the current situation but, above all, she couldn't understand why Uriel had requested her here. Out of all her brethren, Uriel had specifically asked her to come and meet him—ultimately distracting her from her strict recovering duties.

She was better than she had been. She could actually stand on her own which was definitely an improvement, to say the very least. Anauel, an angel of prosperity with healing powers far greater than her own, had managed to mend the internal damage which had been suffered. As he had put it, the rest of the recuperation process depended on her _setting aside the past and moving towards the future_. Taharial had dealt with her fair share of disturbing energies within the past week or so, and Anauel basically had advised on her trying to forget those occurrences. The best thing she could for herself was focus on the pleasant aura in which her brothers and sisters would offer her in their company.

Unfortunately enough though, Uriel had called her away much too soon before much of said amiable energy could be absorbed in which to heal her broken spirit—and it wouldn't it just go to figure that all Taharial could feel in this desolate place was an unnerving tension. With a fluttering of feathers, Taharial appeared amidst the room in which Alastair had been held, the iron pentagram of the devil's trap still standing securely in its original position. A light overhead flickered just ever slightly, which typically would've put the angel on edge, but she could sense that there was no demonic presence nearby and so she had little reason to worry.

Though her brow creased somewhat as she frowned at the lack of her brother's attendance. "Uriel?" she called out, peering just around the corner of the doorway to the next room. Before her simply sat an empty table, who's finish was rusted and chipping around the edges. She let out a light sigh leaning back into the room in which she stood.

"Sister," Uriel's deep voice echoed from behind her suddenly.

Taharial actually jumped at his sudden appearance—why had she not sensed his arrival? "Uriel," she gasped somewhat, turning to face him, "Why have you asked me here? What's going on?"

Uriel did not hold her stare for long, instead turning to pace the floor a bit. "The Winchester never did recover the information on who has been killing our recruits," he mused. There was a smug undertone to his voice as he spoke, which Taharial was sure to catch.

"As I recall, the killings suddenly halted when the demon Alastair escaped," she retorted, folding her arms tightly over her chest.

"Is that accusation I sense in your voice, sister?" Uriel arched an eyebrow in suspicion as he glanced back over his shoulder towards her.

"Only if you believe there is right cause for it," Taharial challenged, actually taking a step closer to her colleague, "You may not have served under me long Uriel, but I'm quick to learn my comrades."

Uriel paused in his footing, an almost delighted grin coming over his face, "Is that so? Well then, let us see if you are as quick to dodge." With that, a lengthy silver blade slid out from beneath the sleeve of the angel's shirt in which he gripped tightly within his grasp.

He swung it forward at Taharial, who managed to curve and dip back just as the blade came forth in which to stab her. Jumping a fair distance back from her brother, Taharial's eyes widened as she watched him curve the blade within his fingers—he obviously had experience wielding it. "You," she muttered, her tone thick with disgust, "You're the one who's been killing our siblings, murdering them in cold blood!"

"I confess, it's lately become a _hobby_ of mine," Uriel shrugged almost nonchalantly.

Taharial gritted her teeth, careful to side step his movements in case of another sudden strike. "But why? Why would you do such a thing!" she demanded, desperate for an answer.

Uriel replied simply, "They got in the way. Just as you have!"

Again he attempted to lunge at her, this time driving the blade downward in which he happened to pierce her upper thigh. Taharial screamed out as the cut burned and sizzled, making every inch of her body thrashed in pain. Uriel watched, half-snickering, as she visibly winced. Balling her fist, Taharial drove it upward under his jaw, temporarily stunning him, as she yanked the blade from her flesh. She was weakened to begin with, but now this gave Uriel yet another unfair advantage. Allowing the blade to drop to the floor, Taharial began to hobble towards the doorway of the room bolting for anywhere in which to take cover.

Of course Uriel wasn't far behind, still following treacherously after her with weapon clutched in hand. Taharial managed to find a stack of cinderblocks to protect her for the time being, in which she knelt down towards the floor. Blood was now flowing freely from her wound, seeping into the fabric of her jeans and spreading ultimately all over her leg. Clasping her hands together, she closed her eyes tightly as if to pray taking a deep breath. She was about to lightly murmur her pleas when suddenly she could Uriel coming up close on her position. Throwing her head back she cried as loud as she could, "Castiel!"

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Dean had turned his phone off. He hadn't really bothered to explain to Sam why, he just simply told him that it wasn't working correctly. Once Sam had tried to grab it from him and fidget with it, Dean just took the battery out all together stating that it was _busted or something_. The younger hunter didn't press the matter any further but had his questions. Of course now really wasn't the time nor place to discuss why Dean suddenly repelled cell phone communication, but Sam was nearly sure it would come up in conversation eventually. Little did he know Dean just wanted to secure that he wouldn't have any awkward texts from a certain demon whilst on this particular hunt. Or any hunt for that matter.

The Impala came to a rumbling halt as the brothers pulled up to the towering building at a prompt closing time of 9:00PM. The only employees that remained within the building were a few janitors which wouldn't have any trouble with neither of their presences, thanks to a pair or handy-dandy fake ID's. Apparently Sam and Dean, who were now Dwayne Pipe and Tim Burr, were a team of electrical specialists who came to inspect a _shortage on the upper levels_. Catchy.

"I wonder where Cas is," Dean mused as they trailed through the hallways and towards the office Zachariah had occupied earlier—it seemed like a good enough place to start researching as any.

"I'm sure he'll be okay," Sam sighed, "Maybe he got caught up in some other orders or something."

Dean scoffed in sarcasm, "Yeah, I'm sure Zachariah's prob'ly up his butt about something or another."

Sam chuckled lightly as they departed from the elevator and made for the office just down the corridor. "Mr. Adler?" Sam frowned quizzically at the title that was plastered to the door.

"Probably the poor yuppie Zach's riding," Dean shrugged as he began to pick the lock. Within a few moments, there came a loud pop in which the door came ajar ever slightly.

Dean and Sam took a few steps inside the room, flicking on the desk lamp which emulated light all across the cramped confinements. Sam took a seat at the rolling chair just behind the desk, bringing his laptop forth from the depths of his messenger bag and sitting it before him.

"So Cas said there was a ghost haunting the building, right?" Sam asked, peering over the lid of his laptop.

"Yeah, he really didn't say anything else," Dean replied, taking a seat in one of the nearby chairs, "Though he's prob'ly have more info if he was actually _here_."

Sam sighed, "Yeah, well, he isn't. Guess that means we're winging it."

"At least he told us it's a ghost," Dean chuckled somewhat.

Sam nodded and grinned. "Well, I guess the best place to start would be the company records," the younger hunter scratched his head, beginning to pound his fingers across the keyboard.

"What for?" Dean frowned.

"Well," Sam cleared his throat, "If there's a ghost just roaming around the building, chances are _somebody's_ seen it. Either that or it's caused an electrical disturbance or something along those lines."

"Right, well, when the nerdy stuff is over let me know," Dean yawned, squirming to get comfortable in the cushioning of the chair, "Man, this chair smells like feet."

"That's good to know," Sam laughed sarcastically. Browsing through the building's employee archives, he stumbled across a list of all those hired and fired.

But what really caught his eye, was a folder entitled _Other_. Double-clicking it, Sam opened the file only to find three text documents enclosed there—_Funds_ (under-the-table transactions, no doubt), _S_Records29_, and _S_Records09_.

Sam's brow furrowed as he decided to open the two _S_Records_ documents. Suddenly his face fell flat as he caught sight of just what these files contained. "Holy crap," he muttered under his breath as he scrolled through the various paragraphs.

"What?" Dean asked, fidgeting with his fingernails.

"Suicide records," Sam replied simply, "And a lot of'em too."

"How many are we talking here?" Dean frowned.

Sam cleared his throat, "Two, and that's just in the last month. Apparently the last guy worked in tech support, Ian. After messing up some returns or another, he plunged a pencil right into his neck. Another guy from corporate found him in the bathroom sprawled out on the floor."

"Well, I guess that's one way to go," Dean whistled loudly in distain.

"Yeah really," Sam nodded in agreement.

Dean now stood from his position, coming to lean against the side of the desk. "Have there been any others before that?" he asked.

Sam continued to search as he responded, "Back in 1929—window jumpings."

"But lots of guys jumped off high rises that year," Dean retorted.

Sam paused from his work in which to glare at his brother. "How many companies had seventeen suicides?" he pinpointed.

"Touché," Dean shrugged, "So what, this ghost only pops up during times when the economy's gone sour and just randomly starts killing these poor schmucks?"

"Not randomly," Sam corrected, "According to these records, it's only been employees who've been slacking off apparently. Our buddy Ian, a frequent coffee break kinda guy. Not to mention he'd been caught stealing office supplies, more than once."

"Whoa, whoa, so let me get this straight—this freaking ghost goes around killing these guys just cause they're losers?" the hunter couldn't help but chuckle to a certain degree.

"Pretty much," Sam nodded, sliding his computer just slightly away from him.

"So how are we supposed to figure out who this son of a bitch is?" Dean sighed, pinching the brim of his nose.

Sam reached down at the side of the desk, pulling out of three drawers, before retrieving something and slamming it shut again. Allowing a massively thick book to slip from his hands, there came a loud bang as it crashed against the desk towards Dean. "Start reading," he nodded, pulling his laptop back in front of him in which to continue his research.

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Taharial had been avoiding, _dodging_, Uriel for quite some time ducking in and out of dim corners all the while silently praying that Castiel would come to her rescue. Castiel was a warrior angel, he had experience with combat and knew various tactics. Taharial on the other hand, had no such luck—she was an angel of healing, helping to aid and purify Heaven's soldiers upon their return to the host. She had no idea that most earth-traveling angels were armed with thick metallic blades that would sizzle against a cut among impact. She felt like a helpless rabbit on an open field, the hawk above closing in on their prey...

Uriel came out of nowhere, sudden and unexpected, as he charged forth baring his blade in hand. His hand was up, as though ready to strike down at her, when Taharial lifted her leg smashing her foot into his wrist. The blade went flying, its shine flickering and dancing amidst the shadows as it tumbled to the ground below. It hit the concrete with a noisy clank in which Taharial instantly bolted for the weapon but Uriel was faster—_much_ faster.

Reaching out, he managed to grab a hold of Taharial's shoulder which caused her to fall lop sided. Still, she pressed forward, desperately wishing to gain a hold on the blade in which to defend herself. Wrapping her fingers around its sturdy frame, she quickly turned to face him attempting to stab Uriel in the throat. Uriel, who was almost on top of her by now, managed to clench his fist around Taharial's wrist squeezing until he could hear the sharp snap of a bone. Taharial screamed out, white hot agony flashing across her soul. Uriel took this time to bash the blade from her hand, in which it flew across the room once more.

The sound of the blade's crashing about jolted Taharial back to reality, and the angel curbed her intact hand into a tight fist. With supersonic speed, Taharial drove her fist into Uriel's jaw, watching as he flew back away from her as though he'd just been smacked with a lead weight. With a forceful grunt, Taharial arose from her current position and darted ever further back into the warehouse. She knew there was only so long in which she could stall Uriel's rage before he would finally kill her. A shrinking feel of deep foreboding fell over the angel as she fled, still heavily wishing that Castiel had heard her cries.

Uriel, meanwhile, stumbled about for the briefest of moments from Taharial's forceful punch. Honestly, he hadn't realized the little healer had it in her—though he did enjoy a good fight. Uriel snickered to himself as he knelt to retrieve his blade.

Almost as though on cue, Castiel unveiled himself in a rush of feathers. His eyes were dark, his brow creased in the utmost of concentration. "Uriel!" he shouted, his voice brittle like nails on a chalkboard.

"Castiel," Taharial gasped in relief to herself.

As Uriel arose, he was careful to slip his blade back into the confinements of his sleeve, _hopefully_ without Castiel's ever watchful eyes noticing. _He always was so observant..._

"Castiel," Uriel echoed, unknowingly, Taharial's unexpected reaction, "What brings you here, brother?"

Castiel seemed to become visually repulsed at Uriel's calling of him. "Where is Taharial?" he nearly commanded,

"Taharial?" Uriel questioned nonchalantly, now beginning to circle Castiel in slow paces, "She's not here."

"She called to me. I heard her voice echo from here," Castiel argued.

"Perhaps you were mistaken," Uriel suggested with a shrug.

"No," Castiel retorted sharply, "Each of us has a unique voice, you know that. Not to mention, there are sometimes traits which stand out when we speak. Like _fear_ or _distress_."

Uriel cleared his throat, now becoming rather agitated with Castiel's persistence, "I realize."

"Tell me, Uriel, that blood on your lip—is it new?" Castiel questioned, the slightest tinge of arrogance ringing in his voice.

Uriel stopped dead at his brother's words—he hadn't even realized he was bleeding until Castiel had said so. Brushing the wound lightly with his fingertip, he examined the blood. "What is it you're getting at here, Castiel?" Uriel huffed, looking Castiel straight in the eye.

"We've been friends for a long time, Uriel," Castiel began with a deep sigh, "Fought by each other's sides, served together away from home, for what seems like _forever_. Pay me that respect, tell me the truth."

Uriel tore his eyes away from Castiel, directing his gaze towards the ground as though ashamed. "The truth is, I did call her here," Uriel confessed, "I mean to kill her."

Castiel swallowed hard, but remained calm, as Uriel slid the blade out from beneath his sleeve. Castiel cleared his throat, his voice feeling mangled in his windpipe before he even had the chance to speak. "You," he questioned, though it was more of a statement at this point.

"I'm afraid so," Uriel sighed in defeat.

Castiel choked desperately, feeling torn by such a deep betrayal, "For the murders of our kin?"

"Not murders, Castiel. No. My work is conversion. How long have we waited here?" Uriel exclaimed suddenly, "How long have we played this game by rules that make no sense? With you, we can be powerful enough to—"

"To?" Castiel interjected swiftly.

"To raise our brother," Uriel proclaimed, a slight grin spreading over his lips.

Castiel's eyes opened wide in shock, the color instantly draining from his face. "Lucifer," he uttered breathlessly.

From her position across the room, Taharial gasped out covering her mouth with her hand to muffle the sound. She just couldn't believe that Uriel would turn against them for such a reason—Lucifer's return.

"You do remember him? How strong he was? How beautiful?" Uriel continued, his eyes gleaming ever slightly as though off in some distant land, "And he didn't bow to them, those _humans_. He was punished for defending us. Now, if you want to believe in something, Cas, believe in him."

The distain Uriel's voice held at the mention of humanity was unmistakable, and somewhat offensive—Castiel had grown quite fond for those in his charge. He held them in a high respect. "Lucifer is not God," Castiel stated firmly.

Uriel scoffed, "God isn't God anymore, He doesn't care what we do. I am proof of that."

Castiel said nothing for a moment, silently debating on where to direct the conversation next. "Are you trying to convert me? I mean, what were you gonna do, Uriel? Were you gonna _kill_ the whole garrison?" he spat.

"I only killed the ones who said no," Uriel defended desperately, "Others have joined me, Cas. Now, please, brother, don't fight me. Help me, help me spread the word. Help me bring on the apocalypse."

Castiel's mouth went dry at his brother's request. What Uriel was asking of him—it was unfathomable. And so instead he decided to avoid Uriel's proposition in regards to a question of his own, "What about Taharial?"

Uriel let out a deep sigh, turning away from Castiel. "I'm afraid she already know too much. She would never understand, or accept for that matter," he declared.

"I can't allow you to kill her," Castiel urged, desperation evident in his voice. Taharial could feel admiration swell up inside her at his courage—he always had been very loyal in her eyes.

"Perhaps you could take her place among us then," Uriel then suggested coyly, "All you have to do, is be unafraid."

Castiel let out an airy breath, "For the first time—in a _long_ time—I am." He looked up at Uriel, a certain twinkle shimmering in his eyes, and Taharial could feel her heartbeat falter.

A wide grin spread across Uriel's face, but was quickly transformed into shock as Castiel drew his fist back. Before Uriel even had time to react, Castiel flung him across the room, in which Uriel collapsed through a brick wall. Uriel arose quickly, charging at Castiel full force, in which to beat him in retaliation. There was a scuffle between the two, before Uriel at last pounded Castiel in the face before tossing him to the ground.

Taharial was about to lunge forward, though injured, and help Castiel, when a familiar hand lay upon her shoulder. Turning to see just who it was, Taharial's eyes widened in amazement—this certainly was a face she hadn't dreamt she'd see again. She opened her mouth as though to speak, when she was abruptly cut off. "Stay here, I can handle this," they commanded.

"Wait," Taharial hissed, gripping there forearm.

"It's okay," they assured her, "I've been waiting for this for quite some time now." With that, Taharial watched as they crept off into the shadows. Anticipation bubbled up in the pit of her stomach as she prayed, harder than ever, that this would all be over soon.

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**Author's Note: **So this chapter was a bit shorter, but I still hope you enjoyed it none the less. Can you guess who Taharial's mystery friend is? I think that it should be easy to figure out =P

We're going to be seeing a bit more involvement of Alastair in the next chapter, just so you're aware, and Sam and Dean will also be finishing the P.T. Sandover job as well. Thanks for reading!


	8. The Truth Beneath The Rose

**Disclaimer: **All materials belong to their respectful owners. Any and all of the following written is completely, one-hundred percent, fan-written and I claim no profit for it what so ever.

**Author's Note: **So here I am with another chapter for you all to enjoy. Sorry it took me so long to get out, I don't know why I had so much trouble writing this. In this chapter though we're going to be finishing up the basic events of 4x17 and moving on towards the next episode. There is still a major detail of the series though which I haven't touched base on which will be revealed.

Also, we're going to be seeing more of Alastair (yay!). For future reference, the _italicized text_ later on in the chapter will be the text messages that Alastair and Dean exchange. I hope that part is not too confusing for anyone. Without anything further, please enjoy!

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**The Truth Beneath The Rose**

Taharial watched anxiously as they moved closer and closer to where Castiel and Uriel were engaged in combat. Like a creature of the night they crept along with perfect stealth and precision. With a grunt, Castiel pummeled to the ground after repeated punches from Uriel. He struggled to his knees looking up dazedly.

"You can't win, Uriel," he gasped through a bloody lip, "I still serve God."

Uriel shook his head vigorously, the purest of fury burning in his eyes, "You haven't even met the man! There is no will, no wrath—_no God_." Between each word he planted yet another blow to his brother's face, preparing to hit Castiel again, when suddenly he felt a sharp jab burst through his throat.

Castiel watched in the utmost amazement as he saw an angelic blade puncturing Uriel's skin. "Maybe, maybe not. But there's still _me_," Anna's voice suddenly growled from behind him. With that, she yanked the blade out of him, watching Uriel's now lifeless corpse collapsed to the floor. Anna then took her place standing beside Castiel. They changed a brief glance, before returning their attention to Uriel once more.

A bright shining light exploded from his eyes and mouth, followed by a massive title wave that shook the very foundation of the warehouse. Taharial toppled over from the position she was crouched in, arising only to see the remarkable imprint of Uriel's wings stretched across the concrete floor. It was quite the astonishing sight—she'd witnessed many of her brethrens' death in battle but never upon the earthly realm. It was as incredible as it was devastating.

As she cautiously stepped forward, both Castiel and Anna caught sight of her Castiel came rushing forth in which to greet her. "Sister," he muttered, his voice gruff. His eyes scanned over her body from head to toe, examining the many wounds which marred her.

Taharial smiled weakly at him, directing her gaze just over his shoulder in which to look upon Anna. She stood in a statue-like manner, her expression not grim but not exactly overjoyed either. "Anna," she called, "Thank you."

Anna knitted her brow together in confusion. "For what?" she asked naively.

"Uriel would've killed both myself and Castiel—someone had to stop him. I'm in you debt," she clarified, taking a gracious bow. Castiel, on the other hand, merely stood in his current position grief clearly evident in his eyes.

Anna took a few steps toward, wiping the blood from her blade onto her coat rather carelessly. "I'm sorry Castiel," she said in a hushed voice, "I know how close you were to Uriel. But he had to be stopped, you know that."

Castiel cleared his throat, "If you're attempting to comfort me, it is a wasted effort."

Anna shook her head, placing a hand gently on her brother's shoulder. "Not comfort Castiel, just trying to get you to see the truth. Uriel was no longer your brother," she urged.

At this, Castiel's eyes widened, and in an enraged blur he lunged towards Anna ripping the blade from her grasp. With one swift move Castiel plastered the metal dangerously close to her throat in fury. With his teeth gritted, Castiel panted wildly as his heart throbbed within his chest. "Castiel, let her go," Taharial said pleadingly, grasping his forearm, "Castiel, please don't do this."

His eyes softened as Taharial's words sunk in. Pulling away shakily, Castiel lowered his head almost in shame. "I'm sorry," he murmured, handing the blade back to Anna somewhat reluctantly.

Anna let out a deep sigh as she retrieved the blade from Castiel's hand. "It's alright," she smiled faintly, "You're under a lot of stress, it's understandable."

Castiel said nothing in response, only looking up to face Taharial as she laid a hand atop his shoulder. "There must be other matters for you to attend to," Taharial encouraged lightly. Anna just watched suspiciously at how close Taharial seemed to lean in, her fingers grasping needily against the fabric of Castiel's trench coat. Castiel nodded wordlessly, exchanging one last glance with Anna before vanishing into a whirl of air. Taharial rubbed a hand over her brow in exasperation, slowly beginning to pace the floor.

"You do realize you still have orders for my head, right?" Anna asked suddenly.

Taharial cleared her throat, "I realize."

"So why not let Cas just do it?" Anna continued on, almost manipulatively, "I mean, that would be one less problem for the garrison to worry about."

"Enough blood has been spilt already on our accord," Taharial shook her head.

Anna was quiet for a moment. She slowly began to pace as well, side-stepping Uriel's body as she moved along. "Well, at least he's beginning to show emotions now," she said at last.

Taharial frowned, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Castiel's always been so timid, somewhat boring," Anna clarified, "At least with this time spent on earth he's grasping something. Emotions aren't necessarily bad, you know."

"Says the rebellious one," Taharial retorted. Her tone was light, her words deep though.

Anna rolled her eyes, letting out a light sigh as she leaned against one of the nearby walls. "Come on Taharial, you can't tell me that you wouldn't like to see Cas behave with more, well, _affection_," she urged.

Taharial stiffened in her footsteps—affection, what did that even mean? She knew the humans' term for it, but angels did not show affection. At least not to one another. Swallowing hard, she turned to face her seditious sister with anticipation. "I don't understand your meaning," Taharial replied, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"I'm not stupid Taharial," Anna urged, coming a few steps closer, "I've seen the way you look at him, and I know that deep down you wish he could be just a little more loving. Return some of those comforting touches that you so graciously offer."

"No," Taharial muttered quickly, as to prevent any room for doubt, "Castiel is too important to this garrison. We can't lose him."

Anna arched an eyebrow suspiciously, "You mean _you_ can't lose him?"

"Castiel is one of our best warriors," Taharial continued on as if she hadn't heard Anna's remark, "If it would mean his fall, then I'd rather him never have these emotions."

"Careful what you wish for," Anna sneered.

Taharial simply directed her eyes towards the ground, not wanting to meet Anna's stare—Castiel was her brother, she would never wish his disobedience. At the same time, however, she couldn't deny that Anna was indeed correct. She wouldn't mind Castiel expressing himself more outwardly, take the time to lay a hand on her should once in a while. Clearing her throat, she spoke up after a long drawn pause, "I should go. Zachariah will wish to learn of Uriel's death."

"Of course," Anna nodded simply.

Turning to face her once more, Taharial let out a deep sigh. "Take care of yourself Anna. I wouldn't harm you, but others would not be as empathetic," she advised before disappearing in a flap of feathers.

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Castiel arrived at the P.T. Sandover building, appearing in the office which both he and Taharial had escorted the Winchesters earlier. Glancing around the room, he caught sight of neither Sam nor Dean only books which were scattered atop the desk's surface. And then, suddenly, there a came loud crash from the floor just below, alerting Castiel that their struggle was already in play. Teleporting there immediately, arriving onto the scene and watching in amazement as Sam's body was thrown across the room, Sandover's ghost creeping ever closer to Dean's position against the nearby wall. The hunter shied away as Sandover leaned in towards him, his fingers alight with their shocking spell.

Suddenly Castiel's mind was set in action and the angel darted towards Sandover's glove which lay on the floor, open and vulnerable. Castiel wasn't stupid he knew that in order to diminish a spirit, their remains had to be burned. San glanced up, realizing Cas's intentions and fished his lighter out of his pocket before tossing it to the angel. Castiel lit it near instantly, touching the glove to the heat of the flames and watching as the material smoldered into ash. Dean, meanwhile, shielded his eyes as Sandover combusted before him, disappearing into a wispy haze.

Sam climbed to his feet, panting heavily from the suspense of the attack. Castiel on the other hand was quickly approaching Dean's location, offering the hunter a hand of assistance. Dean accepted it, grunting somewhat as he arose. "Are you alright?" Cas asked, his voice rather gruff with exasperation.

Dean nodded, licking his lips, "Thanks for uh helping us out there and everything, but that's cutting it a bit close Cas don't you think?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed coming closer to where they both were standing, "What took you so long anyway?"

The angel hesitated, "I was _preoccupied_ with other matters."

"Yeah well, a little incentive would've been nice," Dean scoffed.

Castiel glared at him bitterly, his eyes cold. "I tried calling you—twice," he declared, his voice lower than before, "What's wrong with your cellular device?" Castiel didn't enjoy trying to figure out the strange communication products, but it was even more annoying when Dean decided not to answer his call.

Sam answered for his brother, "Dean's um, having some battery trouble. We're working on it though."

Castiel then turned to face Sam, his posture becoming even more jagged and statue-like than normal. "I would suggest you work quickly then," he advised. With one last glare in Dean's direction, the angel then vanished leaving the two brothers in solitude.

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Once Taharial had rejuvenated herself to a somewhat decent state, she sought out Zachariah in which to tell him of the recent events. She arrived in a diner that he happened to be fond of—he'd claimed that it _enriched his earthly experience _and _broadened his perspective on humans_. Whatever.

Taharial knew deep down though that Zachariah visited these kind of places simply to indulge in his superiority over mankind. The sheer fact of knowing he could smite any one of them whenever he pleased is what probably pleasured him the most, at least that's what Taharial assumed anyway.

The tiny belled that dangled above the door chimed ever lightly as she stepped through the archway. A number of eyes drifted in her direction, but Taharial ignored them as she proceeded towards the counter. The look on the clerk's face as she approached told Taharial that she must've looked worse than she though—there was a lovely scrape lining the left side of her jaw, unmistakable.

"Can I get you somethin' hun?" the clerk, a well-rounded woman, asked concern evident in her voice. She must have thought Taharial had been abused.

"No thank you," Taharial replied, her voice surprisingly flat, even to her, "I'm actually just waiting for someone."

The clerk smiled and nodded wordlessly, turning away in which to serve a gentleman who had just come in—he appeared impatient, perhaps in a hurry. Glancing over her shoulder though, Taharial caught sight of Zachariah seated just further down, Castiel accompanying him as well strangely enough. They didn't seem to be talking about much of anything, Zachariah simply leaning against the countertop a mug of coffee beside him for appearance's sake.

Taharial decided to approach them, clearing her throat in which to make her presence known. Zachariah glanced up at her, his typically pleased expression spreading onto his face. "Taharial," he greeted her enthusiastically, "Come, sit."

Taharial glanced at Castiel for a split second, catching a glimpse of his still dim eyes. "I think I'll stand," she said curtly, folding her arms behind her back comfortably, "I just came here to tell you about the recent situation."

Zachariah's face fell somewhat as he cleared his throat. "Yes, Castiel told me the unfortunate news of Uriel," he nodded solemnly.

"Should the Winchesters be informed?" Taharial questioned.

Just then, Castiel spoke up, "I do believe they should be allowed rest. Their encounter with the ghost has left them somewhat fatigued."

"Yes leave them be as of now," Zachariah agreed, "Wait and go to see them this evening."

Taharial opened her mouth as though to object when Castiel cut her off abruptly. "Sir, may I be permitted to speak with Taharial in private?"

Zachariah's eyes flickered between the two of them, before he arose with a rather joyful expression upon his face. "Indeed you may," he beamed cheerfully, "I should be going anyway. Better places to be than here, after all." His tone was light, humorous, but there still remained a criticizing undertone which was unsettling.

Both angels watched as their superior made for the door, strolling down the sidewalk in a matter of steps. Taharial then turned back to face Castiel, arching her brow in suspicion. "What is it you wanted to speak about?" she frowned somewhat.

Castiel glanced around, as if to make sure no one was watching, before scotching just slightly closer to Taharial. "Please, sit down," he urged.

Taharial did as he requested, sitting close to him as if guarding a precious secret. "What is it?" she murmured.

Castiel licked his lips delicately, casting his eyes downward in shame. "I didn't report Anna, I couldn't," he replied in a hushed tone.

Taharial leaned slightly away from him, placing a shoulder firmly upon his shoulder which caused Castiel to look up at her. She shook her head in confusion, "But, what did you say then?"

Castiel hesitated on his answer for a moment, "I, I told Zachariah I killed Uriel. I stumbled onto the scene and used his own blade against him."

Taharial's eyes widened in surprise, and she couldn't help but lean just slightly away from her colleague. "Castiel," she stammered, "You've _lied_?"

Castiel ran a hand through his hair desperately. "I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't bring unneeded attention to Anna, I couldn't," he confessed.

Taharial was silent for a moment, and she sat there stroking her chin thoughtfully for a moment. At last she cleared her throat, "Of course. Anna is still our sister, after all."

"But our orders were to terminate her if ever we came in contact," Castiel insisted, his eyes torn as he gazed upon Taharial.

"Well then, it would appear you and I have both disobeyed then," Taharial murmured sullenly.

Castiel swallowed hard, "What's going to happen to us?"

"If Zachariah knows anything, he hasn't brought it up. Which isn't exactly him as you know," Taharial thought aloud, "I suppose we'll just have to wait and see what happens next." Castiel nodded in silent agreement, laying his elbow upon the countertop in which to prop his head upon. These anxious feelings of not knowing what would happen next were beginning to take a toll on him.

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Dean threw himself onto the mattress of his current motel bed, burying his head into the pillow material almost instantly—he was exhausted. That ghost had turned out to be much more than he'd anticipated, not to mention that the whole process would've gone much smoother had Castiel been there to help from the start. Dean secretly wondered to himself what could've possibly preoccupied the angel for so long, but hadn't bothered to ask. Cas probably wouldn't have given him a straight answer anyhow, that seemed to be a notorious trait with angels.

No wonder Dean was beginning to doubt them.

Sam, meanwhile, came through the door bearing two plastic bags in hand. "Where were you?" Dean asked, his voice muffled as his head was still stuffed in the fluffiness of the pillow. Quite frankly he was surprised that Sam had the energy to be up and about, seeing as the younger hunter had taken quite a bashing being thrown into several walls and all.

Still, he didn't seem to falter as he set the bags upon the table and began to fish out their contents. "Well, I thought while I was out I'd grab us something to eat," Sam replied as he placed a few cups of noodles along with some bottled drinks to the side, "And, for you, a new battery. Heads up!" On that note, he tossed the small square box towards Dean.

The elder hunter grunted somewhat as the pointy corner slammed into his lower back, shifting as to turn and grab the tiny package. He stared at it for a long time, feeling somewhat guilty as technically there was really nothing wrong with his phone. It was too late to admit that now though—Dean was pretty much out of excuses at this point. Glancing up at Sam, who had been watching him intently, Dean allowed a faint smile to flicker onto his lips. "Uh, thanks," he muttered, before sitting up.

"Yeah no problem," Sam shrugged, compacting the plastic bags into a tight ball which he shot for the garbage can, "Need help?"

Dean scoffed at Sam's lack of confidence in his electronic capabilities, "Please, dude how hard can it be?"

"Do you even know how to get the back of your phone off?" Sam challenged.

Dean looked dumbfounded for a moment as he stared at the device which he held in the palm of his hand. Glancing thoughtfully at it, he decided slamming at the right angle into the nightstand beside him was probably the best way to go. Dean could see Sam flinch somewhat at his actions, snickering lightly to himself all the while. "Easy enough," he mumbled.

Sam just shook his head, "Fine, I'll leave that you to that." On that note, he turned, placing the cups of noodles onto the small kitchen counter. Opening the fridge door next, he slipped the drinks inside with ease.

Dean, in the meantime, fidgeted with the task of slipping the new battery in its proper place before replacing the back casing of his phone. He then pressed the power button the side, watching as the tiny screen came alight once again. His face fell instantly, however, as he caught a glimpse of the notifications which awaited him. "Holy shit!" he gasped.

Sam looked curiously over his shoulder, his brows knitted together in question. "What is it?" he asked, taking a few steps closer to his brother's location. Dean stammered with attempted words for a moment before Sam was in a close enough range to view the screen as well. "Thirty-four new text messages!" he exclaimed in the utmost confusion, "Dean, who the Hell is texting you so much?"

Dean swallowed hard, afraid to open his inbox and reveal those messages. "You know," he shrugged nervously, "Chicks." His response almost sounded more like a question than a reasonable answer.

Sam just watched him for a moment, looking as though he was going to argue Dean's obvious lie, but decided against it. "Who knew chicks could be so possessive?" he chuckled instead.

"You're telling me," Dean shook his head, his voice low.

Sam cleared his throat, semi-awkwardly, taking a few steps across the room as he clicked a mindless tune with his tongue. "I'll right back," he announced after a long drawn pause, "I need to make a call."

"Okay," Dean nodded. As Sam closed the door lightly behind him Dean could only be sure his brother was calling Ruby, though he really couldn't be bothered with that right now.

There was no purpose in criticizing Sammy when Dean had some awful secrets of his own. To each his own, no matter how twisted or disturbing their choices might be. Letting out a deep breath, Dean began to scroll through the lengthy list which littered his inbox. At last he came to the first message and without hesitation opened it and began to read...

_Running won't make me disappear, Dean. Surprised you haven't figured that out by now._

Dean was half-tempted to laugh at this first statement. He could practically hear the scolding mockery dripping from Alastair's voice. It was strangely comforting.

_Turning off our phone now? A bit childish, wouldn't you agree?_

Alastair did have a point here—even if Dean didn't want to admit it, turning off his phone was somewhat cowardly even for him. Though the hunter was thankful that the demon seemed to have the heart not to put it so harshly.

_I was hoping to have a conversation with you... one those mindless harbingers left out when they ripped you from the pit. Tell me, honestly, do you miss it as much as I do?_

Now Dean had to admit, this one bothered him just a bit. Not so much the idea of Alastair bringing up Hell as it was the demon's claim that the angels had forgotten to mention some details about their plans for him.

By the time Dean got to the twelfth message or so, Alastair had begun talking about the seals. Dean found this of particular interest, vigorously reading through one after the other in which to discover the demon's point at the end of all this. Alastair had chosen to send his messages only a few words at a time by now, which Dean figured he'd done simply to torture him with anxiousness.

_Ever wonder how we broke the first seal?_

_We had to break the first seal before any others._

_Only way to get the dominoes to fall, right?_

_Topple the one at the front of the line._

Dean felt his heart began to race within his chest, a light coat of sweat collecting on his forehead as he pressed on. His stomach wrenched with fear and anticipation, his breath steadily increasing to a heavy pant. This, it couldn't be real. Alastair had to be lying, that was his specialty wasn't it?

_And it is written that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in hell. As he breaks, so shall it break._

Each word hammered against the hunter's skull with unrelenting force, weighing him down bit by bit until he felt he'd reached his limits. And just when Dean thought it couldn't get any worse—it did.

_Oh, the first time you picked up my razor, the first time you sliced into that weeping bitch..._

Swallowing hard, Dean braced himself for the final blow.

_That was the first seal._

Dean felt his heart stop. Everything they were fighting for, the apocalypse they were trying to prevent, it couldn't all have started with him. Could it? There was no way the fate of the world could be placed on any one man's shoulders, that was impossible. Yet it seemed that Alastair had just provided him with all the proof he'd ever need. In the past few minutes Alastair, a demon, had been able to give Dean all the honest answers he'd been searching so desperately for. All the answers the angels had been reluctant to share. And this, strangely enough, made Dean angry. So angry, in fact, he could feel his body temperature rising as fury pumped through his veins.

The hunter debated for a moment on whether or not to throw his phone against the nearby wall and poor out all his miseries to a few good rounds of scotch, but in the end decided against it. Instead, Dean managed to regain at least some of his composure as his fingertips sped rapidly over the keypad of his cell phone.

_Where are you?_

He demanded, sending the text message out to Alastair.

The demon replied promptly, almost as though he'd been waiting, sending Dean the address of this current place of residence. Just then, Sam appeared from his place amidst the hallway frowning somewhat as he leaned against the thin strip of wall space beside the doorway. "What wrong Dean?" he asked, folding his arms tightly across his chest as he noticed the obvious tension still lingering over his brother.

Dean stared at the phone, which he still held in his hand, clearing his throat as he glanced upward at Sam. "I uh," he hesitated, knowing Alastair was waiting for him, "I gotta go."

Sam looked slightly taken aback as Dean arose from his place on the bed and fetched his jacket off the back of one of the nearby chairs. "What, now?" he stammered, his voice sounding a bit more desperate than he had really intended.

"Yes _now_," Dean emphasized, his voice gruff as he made for the door in a hurry, "Just um, look after yourself for a while 'til I get back."

Sam stepped forward hesitantly, "Dean, wait—" but he was cut off by the slamming of the door in his face as Dean made his quick escape. Sam was half-tempted to storm after him and demand an explanation for what was going on, but instead he refrained. Pulling his cell phone yet again, Sam dialed Ruby's number for the second time this evening.

"Sam," she answered, her voice a clear indication that was indeed surprised, "Uh, what's up?"

Sam sighed, "You can stop by now if you want."

"I thought you said Dean—"

"Things have changed," Sam interrupted her swiftly, "Dean's gone."

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**A/N:** Sorry lovelies, but that's all I have to leave you with for this chapter. Again, my apologies for its late arrive I'll try to post the next one in a more timely manner. Random fact of the day: My one-year fanfiction anniversary (kind of lame to celebrate, I know xD) is coming up very soon and so I'm über excited for that, haha! Perhaps I'll have an updating blow-out of some kind, hmm.

Anyway, thanks so much for reading! As always, reviews are appreciate thoroughly! ^_^


	9. Labor Of Love

**Disclaimer: **All materials belong to their respectful owners. Any and all of the following written is completely, one-hundred percent, fan-written and I claim no profit for it what so ever.

**Author's Note:** Hello, hello! Here I am again, sooner than before, in which to offer you further continuation of the story. Woot, I'm on a roll! Anyhow though, in this chapter I should warn you that there are some fairly suggestive themes prominent. Also, there will be a slight romance scene towards the end so please just be aware of that.

We won't really be delving into any of the events of 4x18 until the following chapter, this one is pretty much a time to explore everyone's thoughts and feelings. I really hope you enjoy, happy reading!

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**Labor Of Love**

"What do you mean, he's gone?" Ruby questioned, an almost irritated tick ringing in her voice.

"I dunno, he just let," Sam replied, rubbing his forehead in slight exasperation, "Look, can you just get here? Please?"

Ruby said nothing for a moment, letting out a deep sigh after a long drawn pause. "Yeah sure, I'll be over in a few minutes," she said in a hushed voice.

A grateful smile spread over the hunter's lips. "See you then," he murmured contently before hanging up. Slipping his cell phone back inside his pocket, the hunter collapsed onto one of the nearby chairs. He allowed his head to hand back, his face tilted up towards the ceiling, all the blood rushing to his skill in a vigorously pumping current. Sam could hear his heartbeat drumming against his ears, and he found himself becoming seemingly lost in its strong and steady rhythm.

As he closed his eyes, time faded away as Sam became lost deeper into his mind. Suddenly a loud pounding on the door alerted the hunter's senses. He arose quickly from his chair, walking stealthily across the room in which to answer the persistent knocking. Twisting the knob, Sam opened the door to reveal a rather impatient looking Ruby standing there with her arms folded across her chest.

"Wow Ruby, that was fast," Sam smiled somewhat dazedly.

"Yeah well, what can I say?" she retorted, brushing past him briskly into the motel room, "I'm just good like that."

"Yeah," Sam agreed as he shut the door lightly behind him, ignoring her slight over-confidence.

"So where'd Dean run off to anyway?" Ruby asked curiously.

Sam shrugged, "Out to the bar I guess, I really don't know. He seemed upset before he left though, something with his phone maybe."

"His phone?" Ruby arched an eyebrow in surprise, "You mean he actually uses that thing for more than just bitching to people?"

Sam threw her a glance but didn't actually comment on her remark. "Yeah, uh he's actually been texting a lot lately," the hunter cleared his throat.

"Are you serious?" Ruby exclaimed, half-laughing as she did so, "Man, that really puts him on a whole new level!"

Sam pinched the brim of his nose as he waited for her to regain her composure. "Whatever, it doesn't matter," he let out an airy sigh of annoyance.

"Oh c'mon Sammy, that has to make you laugh. Just a little," Ruby urged taking a few steps closer to the hunter's location. Tapping her fingernail against his bottom lip playfully, Ruby gained a smile from him. "Besides, with Dean out, that gives us, well, some _quality_ time to spend together."

Sam's eyes lit up at her words, and he cupped his hands around her face as he leant in to kiss her roughly. Ruby didn't back down though, as equally forceful as her teeth clashed against his in some strange passionate battle. Running his hands down her sides, Sam grasped her firmly by the hips knocking their two bodies together. Ruby could feel his already stiffened member pressing against her inner thigh which caused her to gasp out in surprise. Sam grinned devilishly, lifting her up as he turned to lay her on the nearby bed.

Ruby fell gently onto the mattress, her hair flowing to each side of her face causing her to look simply divine as Sam quickly straddled her. He simply gazed upon her for a moment before bending down in which to nip at her neck. Ruby giggled lightly, running a hand through the hunter's long strands of hair. With her other hand though, she fished the small dagger she always kept with her from her boot. Sam caught glimpse of its reflective metal, looking the demon beneath him knowingly in the eye. With a quick flop of positions, Ruby was then atop him licking her lips delicately as she prepared to drag the blade across her skin. Sam's eyes were fixated on the knife, his heart pumping eagerly as he knew what was to come.

The two of them jumped suddenly, as an unexpected knock at the door ripped them from their current activity. Sam sighed in disappointment, tossing Ruby an apologetic glance as he slipped out from under her in which to answer the door. As not to cause suspicion, Ruby tucked the dagger securely back in to its original nesting place folding her arms tightly over her chest as she waited to see who the culprit was.

Sam, meanwhile, cleared his throat and smoothed his clothes as he approached the door. Shifting somewhat uncomfortably, as he was still fairly hard, he opened the door and pulled it back ever slightly. "Taharial," he nearly gasped as he saw the angel standing before him.

She didn't look well, a large gash across her chin indicating that she had been in combat—recently. Her eyes too look drained and tired, a pale tone to her once radiantly sun-kissed flesh. "Hello Sam," she replied, her voice hushed, "I've come to discuss some certain unfortunate matters with you and your brother."

Sam frowned hesitantly, "Well, Dean's kinda out right now." He cast a glance over his shoulder, looking at Ruby who now appeared to be as stiff as a statue.

Taharial's eyes followed his line of sight and she too saw the demon sitting patiently, expectantly, on the bed just behind him. "I see," she cleared her throat somewhat abruptly, "I didn't realize I was interrupting something. Goodbye Sam." On that note, the angel turned swiftly and began to stride down hallway before Sam even had a chance to response.

The hunter bit his bottom lip, eyes darting between Ruby and the hallway once more before he jogged to catch up with Taharial. Ruby huffed, almost with jealousy, as the door shut lightly behind Sam and he disappeared.

"Taharial!" Sam called after her, "Taharial, please wait!"

Taharial paused her footing, reluctantly, squaring her shoulders as she turned to face him. "What is it Sam? Obviously you are preoccupied," her sentences were quick and to the point.

Sam sighed, "Look, if something's happened I want to know."

"I'd prefer to talk with both you _and_ your brother," Taharial challenged.

"Well, I don't exactly know where Dean went. Or when he'll be back for that matter," Sam confessed, running a hand through his hair.

The angel arched an eyebrow suspiciously, "So you basically have no idea where your brother could be?"

"Um, a bar?" Sam suggested helplessly.

"I see," Taharial placed her hands on her hips, "Well, I suppose I'll get to my explanation then—Uriel's dead."

Sam's eyes widened in shock, "Dead, how? I mean, was it the demon who's been killing your soldiers?"

Taharial cast her eyes downward, almost in shame. It was quite embarrassing to admit the truth, honestly. "Demons weren't killing my comrades, Sam," Taharial said, "Uriel was behind it all."

The hunter didn't know what to say for a long drawn moment. An angel turning against their own kind, that in itself was enough proof that the world was getting shot to Hell. "And so he set Alastair up? Made it look like it was all on the demons?" he asked curiously.

"Unfortunately so," Taharial responded, lifting her eyes to meet his gaze.

Sam's expression softened somewhat as he looked at her, feeling a sudden empathy wrenching at his heart—Uriel was her brother, and he did this to her. Not only betrayed her, but physically hurt her. Somehow he felt as though he could relate, putting into perspective all the scuffles Dean and he had shared over the years. "I'm sorry," Sam found himself saying suddenly.

Taharial tilted her head, almost in confusion, at his statement. "For what?" she asked patiently.

Sam swallowed hard, "Just for what he did, for everything that's going on. I know Dean and I don't always make things easier for you guys."

"You two can certainly be more trouble than you're worth at times," Taharial admitted with a nod, though her voice was light. Humorous, not offensive. Sam just smiled, opening his mouth as though to speak when the shutting of a door just down the hall alerted them.

The two turned to see Ruby slipping out of the motel room, glancing cautiously at them before turning to walk ever slowly in the opposite direction down the corridor. Sam looked back at Taharial, his brow curved upward in semi-embarrassment. Taharial licked her lips delicately, brushing a few stray hairs from her face. "Look Sam, it's none of my business how you coordinate with her," she advised blandly, "Just, watch out for yourself. Don't forget who you are."

"Taharial, I'm not gonna forget," he insisted, placing a hand atop her shoulder in desperation.

The angel's expression did not change as he had expected it to. Her eyes remained the same, blank and almost icy, but her posture became rigged at his touch. Raising her hand nonchalantly, she picked up his from her shoulder and carelessly allowed it to drop to his side. "I don't demand proof, nor explanation," Taharial spoke simply, "I should be going now."

Sam nodded, clearing his throat, "Yeah, okay."

"Be sure to alert Castiel once Dean returns. He should be visiting you in the near future I would suspect," she instructed him before disappearing with a flapping of invisible wings.

The hunter let out a deep sigh, rubbing a hand over his forehead wearily as he turned and proceeded to this time follow Ruby. Catching up with her easily, as she had purposefully walked slower than a tortoise, Sam grasped her by the shoulders in which to have her face him. Raising her own arms, Ruby bashed him away harshly. Sam stood there for a moment, taken aback, gaping in awe at her über bitchface.

"What?" he asked naively.

"Where's your angel?" she spat enviously.

Sam rolled his eyes huffing in annoyance, as well as impatience, with her sudden change in attitude, "Taharial left. She just wanted to tell me what was going on."

"And what is going on?" Ruby questioned.

Sam couldn't help but get snappy with her, "Why do you care?"

"Maybe I don't!" Ruby hollered, coming close to his face, "Why do I even bother!"

"Ruby, what is your problem?" Sam demanded, shaking her vigorously.

With her hair ruffled messily about her face, Ruby glared up at him immensely. She panted wildly as she could feel her heart beating strongly within her chest. "Why do you care for her so much?" she murmured, her voice barely grazing a whisper.

"What?" Sam nearly gasped, taking a step away from her.

"She's cold, Sam. There's no feeling, no emotion there," Ruby clarified somewhat, tucking her hair behind her ears, "And me, I've been there for you this whole time. I've given everything for you!"

Sam just watched her, horrified, as he realized just how broken she really was—Ruby need him just as much as he needed her. And it was in that instance that he realized what they shared was real, that it made sense. Stepping forward he clasped his arms around her and held her close. "Ruby I, I'm sorry," he whispered gently into her hair.

Ruby clutched his masculine arms, melting into his embrace as he stroked her hair. "You better be," she muttered, an edgy tone still clinging to her voice.

"I am," Sam urged, squeezing her tight, "Don't worry, all I want is you."

Keeping her face tilted away from her, a deceitful grin crept upon her lips. "Good," she said in a low voice. Knowing just how easy it was to twist Sam into guilt was simply delightful, but knowing that he only had eyes for her now too was quite an achievement as well. Having him wrapped so tightly around her finger, Ruby was confident there was nothing she couldn't make him do.

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Dean could hear the gravel crunching beneath the tires of the Impala as he drove steadily along the driveway and towards the residence to which Alastair had given him directions. Surprisingly enough, the hunter had not sped to his destination as he had expected to—no, instead Dean drove with calm consideration as he mentally established just how he planned to confront Alastair. In the back of his mind Dean still hoped that the demon was lying. After all, that made more sense to him than to believe Alastair had known everything from the start. Still, despite Dean's desired skepticism, the hunter could not ignore the deep feeling of foreboding that trembled within him.

As he approached the house at last, which was concealed by a thick vegetation of trees all around, Dean couldn't help but raise his eyebrows in surprise. The place was huge! Certainly run-down, yes, but still of fine architectural taste even so. The exterior was lined with many rows of dark tinted shingles, most of which had fallen off by this time, with a huge multi-flight staircase winding up towards what Dean imagined to be the front door.

Clearing his throat, Dean opened the car door at last shutting it promptly as he exited the vehicle. He walked almost casually across the remainder of driveway, noting what appeared to be a small out-building just off to his right in a disclosed wooded area. Step by creaky step, Dean climbed to the top landing which was about two stories up from ground level. Dean certainly had to hand it to Alastair—if you're trying to stay hidden, then a backwoods creepy-ass mansion ought to do the trick.

Dean raised his hand to the door, but hesitated. Then, with a simple twist of the knob, he pushed the door open fairly wide. Really, what should he bother knocking? It's not like Alastair would be expecting anyone else. As he peered into the hallway that lay just beyond, Dean noticed the discoloration of the wall paper—water spots towards the ceiling caused what was once a lovely floral design to peel away, revealing the hideous molded paneling beneath. As the hunter continued forth a musty odor, most likely from the mold and other dampness, peaked his nostrils. Cover his nose with his sleeve, he couldn't help but gag as the foul stench came on so strongly that it was nearly unbearable.

Still, Dean continued his journey onward through the strange house even as the corridor became dimmer and dimmer. At last, coming to a sharp corner, the hunter turned left with ease almost as if he'd been within the home a million times before. Squinting, he was able to see the faintest of a light warming the end of the hallway which instilled hope but also a subtle fear within him as well. Finally Dean managed to reach the source of light, a doorway, pausing briefly as he silently debated whether or not to enter.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming," Alastair's voice echoed suddenly from the next room, "I must admit, your lack or urgency did surprise me."

Dean cleared his throat but didn't speak as he continued to stand outside the doorway. Instead, the hunter stared contently at his fingers as he fidgeted with them somewhat nervously. Had Alastair really been expecting him so eagerly? That thought alone almost made Dean feel guilty for keeping him waiting.

The demon resumed once more, "Well, do you plan on just standing there?"

"I was thinking about it," Dean retorted sharply. It just seemed so natural to fight against Alastair, reject him, that the hunter found it fairly difficult to really be on a conversational level with the demon.

Dean could hear a low rumbling chuckle echoing from Alastair, followed by the swift creak of the door being pushed open by sheer telekinetic force itself. "I'd suggest you come in anyway, my boy," Alastair said, his voice seemingly further away, "After all, you didn't really come all this way for nothing, did you?"

Dean took a few steps in which to actually enter the room—he had to admit, this area of the house was much better compared to what he had previously witnessed. The walls were a rich mahogany color, elegant carvings and symbols decorating the upper half of the wooden paneling. Lining the floor was a worn wine colored carpet which happened to match the practically shredded curtains that clung so desperately to the nearby windows. Alastair, meanwhile, was seated upon a stool which was facing a fireplace in the far corner, though it was not lit despite the approaching dusk fall.

"I guess not," Dean finally responded after a long drawn pause.

Alastair held up his hand, without bothering to turn around, and directed Dean closer with a motion of his finger. "Come, tell me what's on your mind Dean," he instructed.

Dean did as he was told, stepping forth in which to stand beside Alastair. Quite frankly, he never guessed the demon to be the _caring and sharing_ type—there had to be an ulterior motive. "What are you getting at here?" the hunter questioned in a low voice.

Alastair turned his head to look upon Dean at last, his eyes holding a curious gleam. "What do you mean?" he asked slyly.

Dean could feel his jaw clenching in anger, and at this point all of those carefully planned questions and responses he had planned drifted away from his mind. All he could think about was the unrelenting ache and guilt that writhed within him and he wanted so badly for it to stop. Grasping Alastair viciously by the shirt, Dean swung around and pinned the demon to the far wall. "What the Hell's your angle!" the hunter shouted, "What do you want from me?"

Typically Alastair would not have stood for such treatment, but he knew in order to make his mark on Dean he needed the hunter to feel in control—at least for a while. Smiling somewhat the demon cleared his throat, "I never said I wanted anything, Dean. You're the one who contacted me, remember?"

Dean slammed him against the wall once more, this time coming even closer to his face than he had previously. "Why'd you tell me about the seal?" Dean nearly growled.

"I thought you could use the truth," Alastair muttered, leaning equally closer until he and Dean were just mere inches from each other.

And then Dean did something Alastair wasn't quite expecting—taking one arm off the demon's shoulder, he bawled his hand into a fist before cramming it into Alastair's stomach fiercely. He gasped out, stunned, as Dean tossed him carelessly to the floor below. "You're lying," Dean panted, his teeth gritted in the utmost frustration, "You have to be."

Alastair looked up at the broken man before him, watching how the hunter towered over him so determinedly. Still, he couldn't help but smiling at the fury which bubbled within him. "Now Dean, when have I ever lied to you?" he questioned, clearing his throat.

Dean crouched down, grasping Alastair yet again before planting another firm punch to his face this time. Alastair's head flew back, hitting the wall just behind, a thin trail of blood squirting from the demon's lower lip upon impact. Dean narrowed his eyes as he looked upon him, "You're a demon, demon's lie."

It was a logical explanation—Dean had hunted demons, along with many other supernatural beings, all his life practically. His father had raised him to hate all evil and trust no one. It was not such a simple task as to break that one daily practice Alastair realized. Still, the demon did not appreciate how Dean assumed he could just storm in here and walk all over him. A lesson had to be taught.

With a mere twist of his hand, Dean was sent flying across the room. The hunter let out a groan as he hit the wall, knocking over a picture frame whose glass shattered into millions of pieces as it the floor. He tried to free himself from the invisible brace which kept him pinned to the wall, but it was useless. Arising from the floor, Alastair approached him slowly looking Dean over from head to toe. Casually he wiped the blood from his lip before leaning in close to the hunter. "I've always been up front with you Dean," he so nearly whispered, "From the first day you arrived in Hell, when I made you that offer. I hid nothing from you."

"Then why wait to tell me this?" Dean retorted sharply, his voice strained from the pressure being placed upon his body.

Alastair thought for a moment, "There were more, how should I say, _pieces_ to be fitted into the puzzle first. We needed you all to make the right moves before we made ours."

Dean's pupils seemed confused and hopeless as he searched the demon before him. A certain emptiness drained the color from his face and he sputtered on his words, seemingly unable to speak. "Wh- what does that even mean?" he mumbled, almost as if just talking to himself.

Alastair, certain that he now had Dean in a most vulnerable yet attentive state, released the hunter from his binding grasp. Dean coughed a bit as he collapsed down onto the floor, his eyes glistening and vividly childlike as he gaped up at the demon.

Alastair let out a weary sigh, almost like he were about to tell Dean a long exasperating tale. "It was honestly supposed to be your father," Alastair confessed at last, "Azazel had it all figured out—Johnny boy sold his soul and once we started breaking those seals, well, dearest Sam would be the one to lead the cavalry onward."

Dean swallowed hard, "But I killed Yellow Eyes."

"Yes, a rather unfortunate event," Alastair agreed, clasping his hands together before turning back to his seat.

"Well, sorry to have ruined your plans," Dean apologized with false sincerity.

Alastair seemingly ignored his comment, watching the wood nestled within the fireplace with what appeared to be immense interest. In an instant, crackling flames arose from sheer nothingness filling the room with an eerie glow. "When Azazel died, we struggled to regain ourselves. The devil's gate was open and that of course is when John managed to escape me. Lucky bastard," he almost sneered.

"My dad was," Dean hesitated, feeling a strange sensation bubbling deep in the pit of his stomach, "On the rack?"

"_My_ rack," Alastair clarified boastfully, "My domain, you must understand Dean. Held him there for close to a century."

"A century," Dean echoed the words almost like a hallowed whisper. That seemed impossibly long to the hunter for some dreadful reason—had he, himself only held out a mere thirty years?

Alastair seemed to sense Dean's distraught feelings, and so he turned somewhat to face him once more. "Now don't let yourself down about it," he said, "Just not the man your daddy wanted you to be, huh, Dean? No matter, you've done wonders for us my boy."

Simply staring at the floor below, Dean brought his knees close to his chest. He felt very small right now—so very small indeed. "Shut up," he hissed.

The demon shrugged, "Fine, have it your way. But like I was saying, Vepar could've had my head once John escaped."

Dean frowned, "Vepar?"

"He, well, was at the front of the pack for a time you could say," Alastair muttered nonchalantly, "Once Lilith resurfaced though, oh did she have her fun with him." He couldn't help but chuckle, his eyes looking distant as if reminiscing on the most pleasant of memories of the past. Dean grimaced. "Everything had gone to pieces until—until we learned about John's sons. The fact that you made a deal, that just set things right back in motion there Deano."

Dean cleared his throat, looking up at last, "So I broke your seals, is that it? Well what does this all add up to huh? I mean, what the Hell are you guys waiting around for? What's this got to do with me anymore?"

"Just another detail your angel buddies forgot to mention I'm afraid. They seem to be quite good at that, wouldn't you say?" Alastair taunted.

"Just answer the freaking question," Dean demanded sharply.

Alastair quoted, "The righteous man who begins it, is the only one who can finish it. Looks like all the weight is on your shoulders, Dean."

Dean stood slowly from his position on the floor, his body feeling stiff and unfamiliar even to himself. He kept his eyes focused straight ahead, not even bother to acknowledge Alastair who was currently confused by his actions. "How do I finish this?" he asked solemnly.

Neither hunter nor demon spoke for a moment—Alastair debated silently to himself all the while on just how to word his next response. To be honest, he didn't really have a lot of know-how on what was to come next. He didn't want Dean thinking he was incompetent though. "The angels have been quiet," he began, "We're unsure of their next move."

"So where to do we go from here?" Dean continued. As he glared over his shoulder, his eyes held some kind of dark gleam that amazed even Alastair. More so, the fact that he had used _we_ rather than _I_ showed that he was willing to work with the demon as a team.

Alastair couldn't help but smile at Dean's sudden eagerness. "We get answers," he replied simply, "And I think I know the perfect little snitch that will be able to help us."

Dean said nothing, simply nodding and crossing his arms firmly over his chest. There were so many mixed emotions running through the hunter's mind at this point. One part of him, the generally sane one, kept telling him that he should leave and confront the angels. That he should find out what to do from them because they were obviously working for the greater good. At the same time though, there was a much more dominant side of Dean at this point which nearly enveloped him completely—the most evil and cruel of thoughts raced through his mind and he found himself actually longing to experience some good old fashion interrogation. Hell style, naturally as Alastair would probably have it no other way.

Quite simply, Dean was angry—_furious_, even. Furious with the angels for deliberately lying to him and then making him run around and do their errands. They couldn't even save seals for crying out loud! Dean was also angry with his father at this point too for some reason which he couldn't explain. Somehow he wished he would've been able to talk with John at that cemetery when the devil's gate had been opened. He wished that he'd been given some kind of warning as to what kind of horrors he'd experience what he was within Alastair's wrath. Most importantly though, he was furious with himself for ever giving into the demon. In Hell and as of now. It was the weakness that crept up on him time and time again, dragging him down into the furthest pools of deceit.

Dean became so engulfed in these thoughts which were haunting him that he barely noticed when Alastair placed a firm hand upon his shoulder, turning him to face the demon. Alastair still held that smug grin on his face, his eyes full of a strange knowing and hope. "Join me, Dean," he murmured lightly, almost affectionately.

Dean shook his head, "What?"

"I asked you before to join me before and my offer still remains," Alastair urged, "But if you're really going to be of help to me then we have to be on the same side."

"In secret," Dean his ultimatum. He was sure that if the angels breathed word of their conspiracy he would never be allowed out of their sight.

Alastair nodded, "In secret."

And then, in that moment, Dean just couldn't hold back any longer—lunging forward he pressed his lips against Alastair's, growling ever slightly as their teeth clashed in an almost violent embrace. The demon held his hands firmly around Dean's neck, as if looking to strangle him, biting lightly on his lower lip all the while they kissed. Dean's back slid his arms up Alastair's back, clenching fistfuls of the demon's shirt between his fingers in sheer desperation.

Alastair groaned out at their bodies pressed firmly against one another, straining members throbbing in unison as they were both so fervent as for what was to come next. Crouching down ever slowly, Alastair spread Dean onto the floor below wasting no time as he hastily removed the hunter's shirt along with his other clothing articles. Dean gasped out as he felt Alastair's icy hands upon him, rubbing greedily over his now exposed flesh. He reached his own hands up towards the sides of Alastair's face, pulling him down hungrily as their lips conjoined once more.

As Dean's fingers entwined within the short strands of Alastair's hair, the hunter considered this a symbol of his allegiance to the demon—typically when deals were made, they were sealed with a simple kiss. Dean knew that almost as well as the back of his hand. But then again, this wouldn't be just any ordinary deal. And Alastair was a much more powerful demon than most. And so deep down the hunter knew that this was likely a consummation of the agreement the two had just made. Although secretly Dean wondered just how this was going to work out and even more so how it would change him in the very near future.

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**A/N: **Oh man, I have some big plans for these next chapters coming up. To be honest though, towards the end of the following one is where we will see the storyline really begin to stray from the cannon plot. I think I've stuck pretty well to the events leading up to the apocalypse, but I'd say 4x19 even into a possible season 5 is definitely going to be where the AU picks up.

Anyhow, enough of my rambling. Thanks so much for reading this chapter, I hope you've enjoyed!


	10. The Monster At The End Of This Book

**Disclaimer: **All materials belong to their respectful owners. Any and all of the following written is completely, one-hundred percent, fan-written and I claim no profit for it what so ever.

**Author's Note:** Hi all! It's been a while... _again_. Anyhow though this chapter, despite its title, only runs over a summary of the actual episode towards the end. The rest is mostly my AU picking up which will increase even more so next chapter.

Without anything further, please enjoy!

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**The Monster At The End Of This Book**

Dean awoke beside Alastair just as the first strands of light were beginning to pour through the windows. After their agreement of sworn secrecy concerning one another, the two played mindless sex games into the late hours of the evening. Dean knew the affect Alastair had on his body by now, and so the hunter wasn't even vaguely surprised when new aches and pains greeted him as sleep vanished.

It was at this point, however, that Dean more or less found himself enjoying the pain—it was like a sort of sick refreshment to him. Not that he didn't experience plenty of agonizing injuries from hunting, but this seemed to be a much different kind of pain. It was the sort that helped to remind Dean that he was still fragile, easily marred or shattered at any time. Not only that, but secretly the hunter writhed in the fact that both Heaven and Hell had branded their mark upon his soul. Quite an interesting thought to relish in indeed.

Glancing over his shoulder, Dean took note of Alastair keenly watching him in silence. "What?" the hunter asked curiously.

"We really shouldn't rush into these things, you know," Alastair mused nonchalantly, "The bedroom is far more luxurious."

Dean chuckled lightly as he remembered how quickly the both of them were to fuck openly right on the carpet, their judgments clouded with a nearly divine combination of lust and redemption. He could only imagine what kind of activities might take place in said bedroom if it was as great as Alastair claimed it to be. The hunter opened his mouth in which to voice his interest, when suddenly his phone rang out. Searching the room frantically, Dean caught sight of his jeans which were luckily within reach. He fished the cellular device from his pocket, looking at the screen hesitantly for a moment.

"It's Sam," he cleared his throat glancing towards Alastair for direction.

The demon was half-tempted to snatch the phone from Dean's hand and tell Sam to get bent, but he reasoned that wouldn't be the best approach. Instead, he looked at Dean and instructed simply, "Tell him you'll be back shortly."

That really wasn't the answer Dean had wanted to hear—honestly he didn't quite wish to go back so hurriedly. Sure enough he'd end up dealing with the freaking angels upon his return. Sighing wearily he accepted the call at last, trying to sound as casual as possible, "Hey."

"Dude where are you? You never came back last night," Sam asked, concern evident in his voice.

Dean thought for a moment, hastily making up an excuse out of thin air, "Well, can't have me driving wasted, now can we?"

"What?" Sam sounded bewildered.

Dean chuckled somewhat, "Man, I got so hammered. I don't remember much, but there was this chick—"

"Okay," Sam interrupted him swiftly, not wishing to know the grotesque details of his brother's sex life, "You plan on getting back soon? I got some stuff to go over with you."

"Uh yeah, I should be back soon," Dean replied.

Sam cleared his throat, "Okay, see you then."

Dean nodded, "Yeah." Hanging up, Dean let out a deep sigh of relief.

"Well played," Alastair praised him.

Dean smiled glancing upward at the demon. "I do what I can," he shrugged modestly.

"He bought into it very easily," Alastair observed.

"Oh, if only he knew," Dean chuckled lightly, leaning in to plant an edgy kiss onto Alastair's lips.

The demon moaned lightly, pulling back abruptly though. "No," he shook his head, "We have other matters to attend to. There'll be plenty of time for games later."

"Oh I hope so," Dean snickered eagerly, leaning in close to Alastair once more in which to nuzzle lightly at the demon's neck.

Alastair indulged in such treatment for only a moment further before arising to dress himself. Dean did the same, slipping on his jeans before trekking across the room to retrieve his shirt—how it had gotten all the way over there, he was uncertain.

"When will I see you again?" Dean asked curiously as he put his shirt over his head.

"Fairly soon I should think," Alastair replied, "I believe there's a haunting in town that you and your brother could investigate. We'll reconvene within a few days."

"Sounds like a plan," Dean nodded in agreement, turning to face the demon once more, "So who are we getting info about the seals from?"

Alastair chuckled lightly, "All in good time Dean. Things just have a natural way of unfolding around you, my boy. Just do as I say and all the pieces will fall into place." He patted the hunter's face for encouragement.

Dean said nothing in response, simply leaning in to gain one last kiss from Alastair before he left. If Alastair told him just to wait, well then that's what Dean would do. He had complete confidence in the demon.

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Sam returned from the bathroom, clearing his throat as he walked across the room in which to take a seat beside Ruby upon the bed. Their _activities_ of the previous night had the left the hunter quite content with his desire for the demon blood—for now, at least.

Although, in the back of his mind, Sam couldn't help but hear Taharial's words which she had spoken in the hallway yesterday. _It's none of my business how you coordinate with her. Just, watch out for yourself. Don't forget who you are._ Sam only hoped he could prove the angel wrong and show her that he knew he was and, above all, nothing was going to change that.

"So what did Dean say when you called him earlier?" Ruby asked, interrupting him from his thoughts.

Sam blinked vigorously, drawing himself back to reality, "Uh, he said he'd be back soon."

"Where was he anyway?" Ruby questioned as he picked at her fingernails nonchalantly.

Sam frowned somewhat, wondering why she really even cared where he went. Those two were like mortal enemies, after all. "He didn't say," the hunter muttered in response, "You know, you don't always have to up and leave when he comes around."

Ruby half-smiled, "I know. But it just makes things easier."

Sam clasped her hand in his own. "Please stay a while," he sighed, "Look, I can talk to Dean when he gets back. You do help us out a lot, even he knows that."

"Okay," Ruby nodded, exchanging a quick kiss with him.

Sam, now content with her response, arose from his position on the bed putting his hands into his pockets. "Hey, I wanna drop Bobby a line so I'll be back in a minute," he said casually.

Ruby nodded silently, watching as Sam made his way across the room only to disappear out the sliding door and onto the balcony. Letting out a lighthearted sigh, she flopped back onto the mattress and allowed her eyes to dip shut.

Dean, meanwhile, was on his way up the hallway when suddenly his phone vibrated signaling that he had received a new text message. Frowning, Dean pulled it out of his pocket examining the message closely. It was from Alastair, obviously, but the hunter couldn't figure why the demon would be contacting him so early.

_Brace yourself_, it read.

Dean debated whether or not to text him back asking for an explanation but decided against it. Holding the phone securely in his palm, he continued onward down the hall. Finally Dean returned to the motel room—gripping the doorknob tightly, the hunter twisted it before stepping forth. Ruby immediately jumped up in alarm from her position upon the bed, watching Dean cautiously as he secured the door behind him. The hunter bit his lower lip as he withheld the nearly overpowering urge to sigh in distain.

"Uh hey Dean," Ruby greeted in obvious surprise, "We didn't know when to expect you back."

"Yeah, well here I am," Dean muttered in response. He didn't really sound pissed off, but he wasn't exactly enthusiastic towards Ruby either—a bit of a strange medium, even Dean had to admit.

"Sam's outside talking with Bobby," the demon informed him almost casually.

Dean had honestly never been much of a small-talker, but he supposed that it was certainly one way to pass the time. Humanely, at least. "About what?" he asked curiously, feeling his phone vibrating yet again. He glanced down at the received message in wonder.

It was from Alastair, _Do as I say._

Dean frowned, this certainly was an odd request. He'd practically always done what Alastair had asked of him. Why would this day be any different? Ruby, meanwhile, watched intently as Dean proceeded to text a response, trying to figure out who the hunter was even texting _with_. Dean noticed her watching him, clearing his throat as a discrete indicator that he was still, in fact, waiting for an answer to his question.

"Um, I don't know what he wanted to talk with Bobby about," Ruby said.

Dean was surprised as he received yet another inbox notification on his phone—damn, Alastair was a fast texter. _We need leverage. Set your phone on the nearby table and then go into the bathroom. Be discreet._

Snickering to himself, Dean now understood Alastair's plan—Ruby would be their source. Why hadn't he thought of it before? After all, she always seemed to be chalk-full of information who better to interrogate? Clearing his throat, Dean set his phone atop the small end table to his right. "Well, in the meantime, I gotta take a leak," the hunter smiled sarcastically.

"Thanks for sharing," Ruby scoffed watching as he disappeared into the bathroom. She let out a deep sigh, picking at her fingernails aimlessly in which to pass the time. Suddenly, she could hear the small device vibrating against the wood of the table. Dean left his phone right out in the open, and that was just a little more than Ruby could resist. Creeping over towards the tiny table, Ruby held the phone in her hands watching as the screen flashed almost rhythmically. Even though she wasn't quite tech savvy, leaving most of the gadget work to Sam, Ruby managed to figure out how to open and read the message.

_We must meet again. Tonight, nine o'clock at the shingled home. We have plans to discuss._

Ruby didn't even need to think twice before she knew who the sender was. It had Alastair written all over it and quite frankly, well, she was surprised if nothing else. She couldn't very well say she was disgusted, but genuinely surprised that Dean had secretly been collaborating with the master demon. After all the grief he dumped on Sam's shoulders, Ruby couldn't quite figure out what gave Dean the right to run off and—well, do whatever it was he did with Alastair. Of course Ruby had her thoughts about their private affairs, but feeling her stomach lurch suddenly she decided she wasn't going to think about that anymore.

All that mattered now was finding said shingled house and beating Dean there. If she could figure out what those two were up to, then that would definitely give her an advantage. Perhaps her and Alastair could work out some kind of trade, he always had been a demon of his word after all. Sly at times, yes, but not a liar. When he won, it was by fair playing of the rules. No exceptions.

Dean, meanwhile, snickered to himself from inside the bathroom. He waited until he heard Sam enter the room again before approaching the door. He was about to turn the knob when he heard his brother begin to speak. Dean leaned his head upon the door in which to hear more clearly.

"What are you doing?" he could hear Sam ask, his voice sharp.

A shuffling of feet signaled that Ruby had turned from where she'd been fidgeting with Dean's phone. "Oh uh," she stammered, "I wanted to be nosey and see who your brother's been _obsessed_ with texting."

Sam snorted somewhat, "Well leave it alone, Dean would kill you if found you touching that."

Ruby shrugged before setting Dean's phone back atop the nightstand where it had originally been. "He'd kill me regardless," she said nonchalantly.

Dean smiled in spite of himself—one, because he was glad Sam was sticking up his own personal privacy, but also because Ruby's statement wasn't entirely false either. Deciding he'd eavesdropped enough for one afternoon, Dean thought now was probably the ideal time to make his entrance. "Who am I killing?" he asked almost casually.

Sam opened his mouth to speak when Ruby cut him off rather abruptly. "Guilty," she raised her hand slightly in mock-embarrassment.

"Oh don't even tempt me," Dean rolled his eyes. His tone was light, but there was a certain dry edge to his voice which unnerved not only Ruby but Sam as well.

"I talked to Bobby," Sam announced suddenly, switching topics.

Dean retrieved his phone from the nearby table, glancing over his shoulder as he responded, "And?"

"I just thought I'd let him know what's up," Sam cleared his throat.

Dean frowned, turning to face his brother. "What is up?" he asked curiously.

Sam threw Ruby a hesitant glance—he'd already told her the news that Taharial had relayed earlier, though he was sure Dean wouldn't be too happy about that fact. "Uriel's dead," he said factually, placing his hands on his hips.

Dean could feel his jaw tighten at the mention of the angels. The hunter knew he was going to have to deal with them sooner or later, but that still didn't change the bitterness he felt towards them. "So junkless kicked the bucket, huh? Super," Dean muttered coldly, earning a surprised stare from Ruby.

"Dean, this is serious," Sam snapped suddenly, taking a step closer to his brother.

"We got dissension among the ranks," Ruby chipped in for emphasis.

Sam threw Ruby a warning glare, in which the demon snickered to herself as she promptly stopped talking. "Dean, Uriel was working against the other angels," Sam urged, "The demons weren't killing anyone."

His last sentence caught Dean abruptly off guard. "What?" the elder hunter nearly shouted.

Sam looked slightly taken aback, "The demons weren't killing the angels, it was Uriel plotting against us."

As if repeating those last words would truly make any difference—the hunter had taken the full brunt of their meaning. Alastair had been wrongly accused all along. How could the angels be so blind as to not see corruption in their own host? It made Dean sick simply to think about it. And, once again, it just proved the most obvious point that demons definitely had a certain wit about them for knowing things in advance. Angels being serious dicks, for instance.

"So the angels were wrong," Dean announced suddenly, catching Sam's strange stare, "I mean, they automatically assumed it was Alastair's dirty work, but they were wrong."

Sam raised his eyebrows, "Dean, you _know_ Alastair. That totally sounds like something he or even Lilith would do."

"That doesn't mean everyone should just assume he was doing it!" Dean almost shouted, not taking pleasantly the way Sam made everything sound oh so obvious.

Sam took a step back away from his brother. "Why are you defending him?" he questioned, an almost appalled expression plastered upon his face.

"Anyway," Ruby cut in slickly, "It was a chance to torture the bastard. If I were you I would've been skipping in there with a knife. Or, in his case, a razor."

The sweet little chuckle in her voice was just enough to throw Dean over the edge, as he lunged forward at her and pulled the flask of holy water from his jacket. "I'm sick of you!" he hollered dousing her in as much of the water as he could before Sam stepped between them.

"Dean!" Sam shouted back at his brother, hearing Ruby's light sizzling just behind him.

Dean looked into Sam's eyes, seeing the pure bewilderment and confusion glistening within them. Blinking vigorously, he took a step back dropping his flask onto the floor before stumbling back onto one of the beds. He half-curled his body over, allowing his elbows to rest atop his knees as he placed his head in his hands. Sam wasted no time—guiding Ruby gently across the room away from Dean, he slipped inside the bathroom. Returning quickly he emerged bearing a dry towel in hand. The two of them walked out into the hallway without another word.

"Ruby, hold up!" Sam called at her, as the demon was already storming down the hall, "Ruby!"

"_What_ Sam?" Ruby growled viciously, her coal black eyes on display for all to see. Sam just looked slightly dumbfounded as he held the towel out for her, watching as Ruby snatched it up harshly as she began to pat herself dry. "Your brother's got some _serious _fucking issues."

"Ruby he's just been losing his temper a lot lately," Sam said, as though that was much of an explanation for anything.

"You think?" Ruby retorted sharply, throwing him a _no duh_ expression, "I knew I should've left when he first called. I just knew it."

Sam ran a hand through his hair in exasperation, "Ruby, I'll try talking with him."

Ruby glared at him intensely. "Yeah Sam, you do that. Go on and talk to him. Though I doubt that'll do _anything_," with that she threw the towel back at him carelessly before continuing on her stride out of the motel.

Sam was about to lurch after her for a moment, but stopped himself as he just continued to fidget with the loose threads of the towel in between his fingers. Letting out a deep, long drawn sigh the hunter turned in which to re-enter the room and talk with his brother. Closing the door gently behind him, Sam watched as Dean still sat hunched over the edge of the bed with his head resting in his hands.

Sam licked his lips delicately, "Dean—"

"Before you go all _that was really inconsiderate of me_, just let me say one thing," Dean interrupted him with a swift raising of his hand, "She totally had it coming."

Rolling his eyes, Sam pinched the brim of his nose in exasperation, "C'mon dude, what the heck did she even say to piss you off so bad?"

Dean said nothing for a moment, drumming his fingers lightly atop his knee as he debated on how to phrase what he wanted to say next. "It's not so much what she said," he spoke at last, "I'm just sick and tired of her having to butt into every single freaking thing we do!"

"Dean, she's just trying to help," Sam protested wearily.

"Help? Sam, how exactly is making remarks about me torturing Alastair helping us here?" Dean shorted, crossing his arms over his chest sharply.

Sam cast his gaze to the floor below, admitting defeat. "You're right," he said in a low tone, "Maybe it'd be better if uh, we kept her out of things for the time being."

"Ya think?" Dean scoffed arising from his place atop the motel bed.

Sam cleared his throat, trying his best to move away from the situation now, "So uh, how about we get to business?"

"Let me guess, a haunting?" Dean chuckled somewhat.

Sam frowned, picking up a stack of research papers from the nearby table, "Yeah, how'd you know?"

Dean smirked, "I got my sources."

Taking a seat in front of his laptop, Sam glanced up at his brother in confusion. "Since when?" he asked.

Avoiding his gaze, Dean scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Since now," he replied dryly, taking a seat in which to overlook the papers.

"_Okay_ then," Sam sighed, his fingers scattering over the keyboard as he typed vigorously, "So apparently it's a comic book shop, the place that's been experience weird phenomena."

"What kind of phenomena?" Dean questioned, skimming over a few newspaper articles.

"Uh, the works—flickering lights, things disappearing from one place and then coming up in another. It doesn't sound like anything necessarily threatening though," Sam explained as he continued to search over the internet.

"No harm in checking it out though, right?" Dean muttered from his seat. Sam nodded silently, and before long they were off to investigate.

Once they had arrived at the comic book shop, Dean let out a deep sigh as he shut the door of the Impala behind him. This certainly didn't look like the place of said supposed haunting—but then again not all the buildings they investigated were outwardly creepy. Even so, Dean simply buttoned his suit jacket proceeding to follow his brother inside.

"Uh, can I help you?" the clerk asked with a slight frown as he looked up at Sam and Dean.

"Sure hope so," Dean nodded briefly, both of them holding up their badges in unison, "Agents DeYoung and Shaw, just need to ask you a few questions."

Sam decided to take the lead, "Notice anything strange in the building, last couple of days?"

"Like what?" the clerk questioned.

"Well, some other tenants reported flickering lights," Dean explained promptly.

He shook his head, "I don't think so, why?"

"What about noises?" Sam continued, "Any skittering in the walls, kind of like rats?"

"And the FBI is investigating a rodent problem?" the clerk laughed somewhat skeptically

Sam decided to ignore his comment and just go on with the questions, "What about cold spots? Feel any sudden drops in temperature?"

Suddenly the man grinned, clarity spreading over his face in that instant. "I knew it! You guys are LARPing, aren't you?" he asked ecstatically.

Dean arched an eyebrow in slight confusion, "Excuse me?"

"You're fans," the clerk retorted simply, as if that would explain everything.

Sam took a step closer to the counter, the same bewilderment as Dean plastered across his face. "Fans of what?" he cleared his throat.

"What is _LARPing_?" Dean muttered, his expression turning slightly sour as he spoke the unfamiliar word.

"Like you don't know," the man chuckled in sarcasm, disappointed as he saw they seemed to have no indication of what he meant, "Live-Action Role-Play! And pretty hardcore, too."

"I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about," Dean shook his head.

"You're asking questions like the building's haunted. Like those guys from the books. What are they called? Umm—_Supernatural_," the clerk elaborated,_ "_Two guys, use fake IDs with rock aliases, hunt down ghosts, demons, vampires. What are their names? Uh... Steve and Dirk? Sal and Dane?"

"Sam and Dean?" Sam interrupted him promptly.

"That's it!" the clerk grinned enthusiastically.

Dean and Sam just exchanged a further confused glance. "You're saying this is a book?" Dean asked, eyes growing wide.

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After a most puzzling day of everything from crazed fangirl editors, to prophet authors, and seemingly no way to alter their futures, Sam and Dean returned to their motel room. Sam still insisted on allowing Ruby to find them but Dean wouldn't have it. Alastair had been right in leading them to the quote-on-quote local _haunting_, but he'd said nothing of Lilith's involvement on the matter. And, even though Dean had taken to trusting Alastair fully and completely, he would still deny his immense hatred for that demon bitch. If he had his way, he'd be the one to rip her spine out.

Still, at this point, Dean was lost.

It seemed like no matter what they did to prevent Chuck's visions from coming true, nothing seemed to work. All happened as preordained, and Dean so nearly collapsed upon taking a seat in one of the chairs situated within the motel room. Nine o'clock was fast approaching, Dean rubbing his forehead in anticipation.

"You okay?" Sam asked from his place near the foot of his bed.

"Not really," Dean somewhat laughed, even though nothing was really funny. Sam looked as though he were about to say something and Dean was grateful—at this point he really wasn't up for a million questions, he just wanted a minute to himself. Especially after his run-in at Chuck's house with Castiel. He'd been about ready to strangle the angel, but had to keep his cool for the sake of the current situation they'd found themselves in.

Despite this, it was obvious that Castiel had sensed the tension that ran so deeply between them. Dean could tell it had unsettled him, the angel being sure to keep a far distance away from the hunter and only looking him in the eye when absolutely necessary. Dean was glad to be able to get under his skin.

"Anyone home?" Sam cleared his throat, watching his brother intently stare at one of the walls. Dean looked at him, simply grunting as he arose from his sitting place in which to approach the door. "Where are you going?" Sam asked, on his feet immediately.

"I gotta get out for a bit," Dean muttered in response.

"Dean, Lilith could be out there," Sam said, "I mean, we should sit tight until we know what's what here."

Dean understood Sam's point, he really did, but if he didn't leave now he might lose his chance of arriving at Alastair's before Ruby. He simply couldn't risk throwing off their whole scheme. The hunter braced the doorknob in his hand, glancing casually over his shoulder, "Don't wait up for—"

"Dean," Sam urged, catching his brother's eye, "_Please_."

"Sorry Sammy," Dean licked his lips hesitantly, "I just, I got things I have to take care of."

"What things?" Sam exclaimed hysterically—perhaps a little too over dramatic.

"I got a plan to make things work. Just trust me, okay?" Dean asked. Though he didn't even wait for his brother's response as he quickly stormed towards the Impala and started the engine.

Sam didn't try to run after him, didn't try to stop him. All the younger hunter could do was pull aside the curtains to watch his brother leave—again. Sam couldn't help but get this sinking feeling in his stomach.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief he didn't realize he'd been holding in as he pulled up to the shingled house, Ruby's Mustang nowhere in sight. He directed the Impala around the side of the house so that it was concealed in the shrubbery and shadows away from outsiders' eyes. Shutting the door with a creak behind him, the hunter followed the dimly lit window which stood out in the shadows across the lot. It was emulating from one of the many small shed-like structures that seemed to litter the property.

Pushing the door open a crack, Dean's eyes fell on Alastair almost instantly—the demon was facing away from him, his head directed downward at a table which had some sort of old parchment papers scattered atop it. "Hello Dean," Alastair spoke casually, as though he'd been looking right at the hunter as Dean had entered.

"Alastair," Dean greeted curtly, "Why didn't you tell me Lilith was hanging around?"

Alastair looked up at him in surprise, one of his eyebrows arched ever so slightly. "I was unaware," he retorted simply.

Dean's jaw tightened in frustration, "Bull—"

"Believe it or not Dean," Alastair interrupted him promptly, coming to stand mere inches from the hunter's face., "Lilith and I are not in cooperation one-hundred percent of the time. Thought you might've learned that by now."

"My mistake," Dean replied dryly.

A cunning smile spread over Alastair's lips. "That's what I thought," he murmured, drawing back, "Now, we obviously aren't gathering here to discuss whatever little tea party Lilith has up her sleeve."

Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes at that, letting out a small half-chuckle in amusement. "So when's Ruby getting here?"

Alastair lifted the fabric of his sleeve off his wrist for the briefest of moments, checking the watch ticking fiercely away. "Should be any moment now," he said simply, just as headlights began to flood over the driveway. Dean and Alastair exchanged a knowing look, the hunter's feet creaking ever so slightly over the floorboards below.

Ruby shut off the engine of her Mustang, looking about at the trees surrounding the property. This place probably wouldn't have been half as eerie, had it not been for the lack of moonlight being able to shine down in which to guide her path. Ruby trusted though that the light within the small building afar was Alastair's indication of his chosen meeting place. She couldn't help but furrow her brow in disgust as she pondered whether the demon and Dean had, well—_hooked up_ in that very shack. She wouldn't ask.

Approaching the door, Ruby could see Alastair's silhouetted form pass in front of the light through the window. The light's source appeared to be nothing more than a rusty oil lantern set atop a splintered wooden table—how appropriate. Not even bothering to knock, she pushed the door open her heals marking her every step upon the wooden floor.

"Ruby," Alastair greeted, looking her up and down, "Hadn't expected you to weasel your way in here."

"Yeah well, what can I say?" Ruby shrugged, "Dean's not very good at hiding the text messages you've been sending him."

"That so?" Alastair chuckled lightly.

Even as the demon walked steadily around the table, Ruby made sure to keep her distance—she hadn't forgotten what had happened last time the two of them had met. She wasn't about to let Alastair sneak up and get the best of her, not this time. "So what? You two been spending a lot of time caring and sharing or something?" she continued on, still curious as to how this stable relationship seemed to have formed between Dean and Alastair.

Alastair sighed, directing his eyes towards the ceiling as though the rafters held some kind of hidden message, "You could say that."

"That's disgusting," Ruby sneered. He didn't even have to say it—she could tell quite clearly from the demon's tone of voice he was fucking Dean. End of story.

Alastair connected eyes with her in a cold and piercing stare. "That's the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn't you say my dear?" he retorted fiercely.

Ruby swallowed hard, "What Sam and I have—"

"Is the same kind of dependant master-slave relationship I established with Dean all those years ago downstairs," Alastair finished her sentence for her.

"No, you're wrong," Ruby denied.

"Am I?" Alastair turned to face her suddenly, "All those nights you spent _consoling_ Sam while his brother wasted away in fire and ash? It all starts with the first bite, but the serpent is always the one to instigate, wouldn't you agree?"

"And I'm guessing you wouldn't consider yourself the instigator in getting to Dean to break?" Ruby scoffed, folding her arms tightly over her chest.

"Oh no Ruby, I know I was. See, you and I are not much different in our involvements with the Winchesters," Alastair said, beginning to pace the floor once more.

Ruby frowned, she certainly hadn't come here to decipher Alastair's little cryptic codes of phrases. Deciding to just go with it for the now, she replied, "How so?"

"Once Dean died, he needed some consoling of his own. Just as you led Sam to your crimson pool to drink, I too had to convince Dean of certainty within my razor," Alastair explained briskly.

Ruby shuddered slightly at his words—she didn't like the idea of being cut up by that damn razor much less having to learn to use it. Especially if Alastair would guide her hand along, keep her in rhythm, lean in oh so close... no, she didn't like that idea at all. Shaking those thoughts away she still stood her ground. "No, Sam and I, we go deeper," Ruby insisted.

"I find little proof of that," Alastair cleared his throat unnecessarily, "No Ruby, you use Sam for your gain just as I have used Dean for mine. The only difference is, I've had nearly forty years to spend with Deano. And in that time we've built up, what you might call, an _understanding_."

Ruby was quickly losing her patience. Ignoring the limitations she had previously placed between herself and Alastair, she stepped into his personal space breathing angrily, "Now you listen to me Alastair—you may've had the joy of becoming buddy-buddy with Dean in Hell, but I've worked hard to get where I am. I scratched tooth and nail to get on top and I'm not just gonna let you storm in here and replace me.

Alastair glanced at her suspiciously, "And what is that supposed to mean exactly, hmm? Just what have you accomplished with dear Sammy Winchester?"

"Nothing _yet_, but I will. Sam Winchester is going to help me break the final seal," Ruby declared proudly.

At this Alastair's mouth twisted into a wide grin, causing Ruby to feel uneasy. Almost like a dark, ominous presence lingered just over her shoulder. "Hello Ruby," she could feel Dean's breath on her neck as he spoke, cold hands wrenching her arms behind her back.

The lantern was blown out.

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**A/N: **So thanks everyone for sticking around to keep reading this story I REALLY appreciate it, trust me. As always, I'll try to get the next chapter out much quicker but we shall see. Thanks again for reading in the meantime!

Reviews = LOVE


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